Of Snakes and Butterflies
by Ace7321
Summary: He thought she had left for good, to never see her again and she would be in a place so far, far away. She never had left, she's bidding for her time until they meet again and she was in a place closer than he'd ever imagine. This is a Venom Snake/Quiet fic. Warning: Rating may change without prior notice.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything out of Metal Gear Series. Hideo Kojima and Konami does.**

A.N: Quotes in Italics are Navajo.

Beta-read and revised by: **Infinity Comes To A End** as of 10/3/2015.

* * *

 **Of Snakes and Butterflies**

 **Prologue**

Living up to his name, the Big Boss' steps were completely soundless when he walked into his laboratory one evening, just like a snake slithering on the floor. The Code Talker wouldn't be as much alerted of the additional presence if it wasn't for the distinctive screening sounds of the mechanical door opening and closing. Scurrying down the last of his notes, he swiveled his wheelchair to meet his visitor, a smile warmed on his wrinkled lips.

It had been like this for a very long while now but, there had always been nothing in the surviving blue eye of the Boss, Code Talker noted somberly.

No happiness, no sadness…nothing.

Ironic enough, it was the empty eye that told the old man of why the mercenary was so void of emotions. It had been a wild guess of century old instincts at first but, he knew that his hunches were on the right train. It was confirmed, when the Boss blurted out as soon as they were at arms distance: "Could the English strain be removed if she undertook the Wolbachia treatment?"

He would have been taken aback, if he didn't know of whom the Boss was talking about—a sniper adopting the name of silence.

"Perhaps," The Code Talker's answer was calculative, which the Diamond Dog frowned heavily upon. So the old man elaborated further, "Quiet's case was different. The treatment would either rid her of the English strain mating pair, or her life-sustaining parasite completely. After all, Wolbachia treatments are meant to alter the parasite from male to female. Parasites are a very delicate field, if I must say..."

Snake pursed his lips into a fine thin line. Clearly not satisfied with the answer... just yet.

"And you said that she refused the treatment?"

Code Talker hummed a bit, "She insisted, adamantly. And as I told you, it's not because she couldn't afford the risk, it was because of you," he revolved his chair behind his desk, picking out some of the documents scattered from the pile. "Where is the girl, by the way?" came the half-hearted question; the old man had already a good guess when Snake walked in alone without a woman hefted over his shoulders, but it was better to be sure.

The Boss' head dipped, then his face morphed into a scowl—ah, so he was right. Quiet was gone. Shame. He could tell that she have so much potential residing with the Big Boss when they first conversed; as a sniper, as a scout, as a comrade.

"She... spoke English. Before she left," Code Talker listened carefully as Snake gritted his teeth, "The parasite, would it—"

"Yes. It would have activated and fed of off her lungs. I would assume that, she has already died in the same way as those you saw before. At the Devil's House, at Mother Base."

Code Talker barely flinched when Big Boss slammed his bionic hand against the wall, a dent left in the metal barrier.

Clearly, the Diamond Dogs commander understood what an infection in its final stages looked like, not a pleasant sight in the least. Even the old man had to admit, to imagine the same to happen especially to the girl, it was heartbreaking. "So there's no chance that... she could be alive out there?" Code Talker, severed from his reverie, stared at the despondent Snake.

After a pregnant pause, he replied calmly, "Her mission, when the strain activated, was to kill the Big Boss after all, which she clearly failed—" The Code Talker hadn't even finish, and Snake's boots resounded loudly as he marched across the room unlike his silent entrance. So it seemed that the Boss had heard enough of what he needed to know, yet found it difficult to accept.

He couldn't blame him. Perhaps he could offer a small consolation. "You should be proud, Boss. Her use of English was meant to exact her reprisal upon you but, know that she used it instead to save your life."

Snake stopped, tilting his head a bit and hummed in agreement.

"It's not vengeance anymore," he said, "its gratitude."

Snake exited the laboratory without another word, leaving Code Talker to his own peace.

* * *

It wasn't by choice that he cooped himself inside his laboratory, all the days in the week. His physical impairment might have been a reason for his lack of outside movements but, the Code Talker figured that, he felt at best being at this particular room surrounded by his research and equipment.

Of course, it couldn't be because he felt safe. No place in the battlefield was safe enough. Not even the Mother Base was the safest place to live at; Code Talker had lived long enough to learn that. It was just... he could read everything about this room…that was all.

That was why, he suddenly became wary of his own surroundings; so much so that he could hear even the slightest sound not belonging to the laboratory. The pen in his hand skid to a halt at the foreign sound in the midst of the perpetual humming of machines. True he was very old, but his parasite made him far from senile. Easily, he had picked out the muffled breathing in one corner of the room, where the metal wall stared right back at his old bones.

There was nothing but blank space there, and the Code Talker knew better than to misjudge the false frontage, which he meant to correct soon.

Wheeling himself to the direction of his gaze, he stopped at a distance between said walls until he left a space big enough for one person to fit in. He waited patiently, wordlessly, and then he smiled at the glimpse of brown soot swirling out of thin air to form the humanoid shape he had grown familiar to in his months of stay.

She was a horrible sight to see.

Quiet sat with both her legs, sprawled carelessly, on the ground once she materialized in the empty space. Her porcelain face was pale: her skin discolored, breathing haggardly and having to support herself by leaning against the wall to sit upright; her sniper rifle resting uselessly on her lap. Blisters adorned her naked skin, right where her crisped lungs used to be. The random white blobs marring her pale skin would have been a repulsively ugly sight if he hadn't been so used to studying parasites all of his life.

She was already at the final stages of her infection and yet for whatever reasons—possibly miraculous—the parasite hadn't activated enough to kill her…just yet. Almost as if, this girl had the ability to balance life and death perfectly. It would've been more fortunate, though, if she wasn't in so much pain.

The Code Talker took in of all her conditions and shook his head—poor girl was weakening beyond all hopes of recovering.

 _"You are alive,"_ he addressed her in Navajo. Though, Code Talker suddenly felt inane for stating the obvious. But why? How? Then, he was suddenly reminded; he had read previous reports regarding the sniper. Quiet wasn't any ordinary host. She was the result of a successful parasite therapy of already destroyed lungs, unlike those infected through conventional contagion. Yes, yes, that would make a viable hypothesis.

 _"From what I heard from the Boss, you choose a self-imposed exile after you activated your strain and yet... here you are. Alive but, not nearly anymore,"_ He sounded surprised, but not of the sniper's sudden appearance at the Diamond Dogs' Mother Base. He just never thought that he would live to speak the Native language again to, another again, after her apparent departure.

 _"Did you came here to finish what you started, child?"_

A long breath to collect her voice. _"No..."_ her glassy stare sharpened suddenly. _"I came here... to change my fate."_

 _"You mean the Wolbachia treatment."_

 _"Yes,"_ she heaved and from her many utility straps, she retrieved a vial.

Splotches of black circled around the Code Talker's eyes momentarily. The old man bent to accept the small container from the shaky gloved hand. He observed the vial's green nature carefully, pale irises gleaming at the parasite's scientific wonders. Indeed, it was the English strain he thought was all but destroyed, when Big Boss exterminated Skull Face off the Earth. "How?"

 _"I was with the Boss."_ she replied simply, not wishing to elaborate any further than she had to.

But then he returned his gaze to the young woman, perplexed. Now this was certainly intriguing, considering that just weeks before when he offered the same situation, she refused him out of vengeance left remnant. But today, she came to see him with what was meant to be her last best hope.

 _"Fascinating, so you do wish for a cure all this time. So much that you procured one English strain for yourself?"_

She nodded, _"Can you—"_ a wheezing cough, _"—do that for me?"_

 _"Prevention and cure are two different things. I have yet to find an antidote to remedy your already dire situation. If only you had accepted the Wolbachia treatment when I first asked, rather than waiting for this to happen…"_ he blinked at her in consideration, measuring his words before speaking his final verdict: _"But I think I can do it, with this vial you have brought."_

Quiet exhaled deeply partly out of relief, partly out of regret. She stopped when the Code Talker signaled that he was not finished. _"But the question is... can you, dear child?"_ she raised a brow. _"The cure will take time to be manufactured but, as you and I can see; time is very scarce for you. We don't know how much time you have left."_

When Code Talker looked pointedly at her, Quiet's purple lips thinned upon the abnormality pulsing on her chest. Of course, she was well aware of her own condition. Tentatively she moved a finger against the large blotch of white vile web, scowling at the slime on her gloves before letting the arm fall against the ground with a loud thud. _"I have enough,"_ Quiet impeded, then readjusting her wording, _"And if I don't, then I will leave before I can pose a danger."_

 _"So, you wish to be alive and you wish to speak in a common language. Vengeance is a potent driving force, but I can see it's not the Boss that you wish to exact your revenge upon. For you would already infected the entire base if that is your wish,"_ The Code Talker concluded, _"Why, I wonder?"_ he asked sagely.

Quiet remained as mute as the day she took on her name. Then she spoke clearly in English, despite the danger. She had taken a lot of liberty to suppress it by herself. She had already come this far, why not now?

"It's not vengeance anymore," she said, "its gratitude."

To that, Code Talker reply with only a heedful smile... the wheelchair screeched as it scrapped the floor, just as the sniper quietly took her leave in the form of soot. Now, he have a very important task to do with very limited time available. Hunching over his desk, he began assembling his instruments require to process a definite cure for the girl.

It reminded him then, what the sniper said.

Now where had he heard that echo before?


	2. Chapter One

Beta read and revised by **: Infinity Comes To A End** as of 10/26/2015

* * *

 **Chapter One**

The Diamond Dogs's Mother Base was saturated with troops as always. Patrolling units left no corners unturned and personnel were always stationed near any targets of infiltration—that was to say, the entire base itself was a tough nut to crack.

She wasn't surprised. After all, this was a place built by a legend. The Big Boss funded and supplied all resources needed to make this base function; all of the many missions to Fulton-extract materials right under the enemy's noses. On top of that, the many fine soldiers at Mother Base were people handpicked by the Boss straight out of an active battlefield.

Unfortunately, as good as the Diamond Dogs, no one bothered to look at the shipping cranes.

Quiet's general appearance still screamed infection, but her physical-self felt a lot less lethargic after taking Code Talker's advice for some nourishment. Sunlight was easy to access just by standing out in the open where no eyes would look, usually at top of structures. Water? She would, usually, have to wait until security was lax to 'borrow' one of the showering cubicles installed all around the base... although, she only picked the ones that the Boss used.

She sat by herself at a vantage point overlooking the fresh recruits assembled at the Combat platform. Some were chatting animatedly regarding combat strategies, most were throwing comrades all over the place—in a diligent manner.

Revolver Ocelot was in the middle of it all, scrutinizing each posture, like a prowling ocelot he was. She had yet to witness the gunslinger's combat ability, but she deemed that he had enough, him being assigned as the main combat instructor. A soldier made a slip, one which Ocelot noticed. The silent spectator figured she now had the chance to finally see his prowess….until everyone present snapped to attention.

It must have been occupational disease or the outfit he wore, because Snake marched in soundlessly to everyone's prompt salute, which he blatantly ignored, in favor of the smiling instructor. Kazuhira was trailing right behind him, his angry frown hinting at inner displeasure. Ocelot calmly took in all of them before greeting them cordially, totally unfazed by Snake's curtness and Kazuhira's outburst. "Boss. Kaz."

Without missing a beat, Snake exclaimed: "Get ready the Intel team, I'm moving out," which was followed very quickly by an infuriated Kazuhira's, "Boss, No!"

Ocelot gave an understanding nod to the situation. "So, you've finally decided if you want to find out something about it?"

"Yeah…"

"This is pointless; we already have Code Talker to tell you anything you want to know!" the Base Commander protested adamantly, "You don't have to infiltrate the base again, it's too dangerous!"

"On the other hand, I am in support of the Boss' decision," Ocelot interjected, prompting an even look from Kazuhira. "After all, this is a special case. Code Talker said it before: it was the first to ever carried by a person," the gunslinger wisely ignored Kaz's glaring eyes behind his aviators, turning to offer his assent to Snake instead, "There's no harm in trying to learn more... better than making false assumptions or waiting for something to transpire. We have all had our fair share of Skull Face's craftiness."

Kazuhira looked as if he had more to say. He relented to strike his cane on the ground, his voice softening to a lower degree before he nodded. "I don't like this at all," he finally acquiesced, "But, you know I got your back, Boss."

"I know you do," Snake then left for the helipad, none the wisest, of a pair of eyes that never left his own.

Nothing slipped past Quiet's scrutiny the entire time during the argument, yet the conversation remained out of her earshot. Whatever it was, it seemed like Snake was embarking on a high risk mission. One where, she would not be there to aid him. No, at least not until she was rid of this... disease, whatever it's given name was.

Deciding that she had lingered too long, the sniper retreated; freefalling off the structure before landing in one graceful crouch.

Code Talker was waiting for her, right below the crane she had just been perched on top of.

 _"I thought you were here, my parasites caught on your presence,"_ he said, watching in the same direction as she was. Pequod flew past the building, deftly, before landing.

She watched as Snake boarded the chopper, _"Have you found the cure?"_

 _"Not yet. Although, I have realized that I might need your help in the matter after all. You, unlike everyone else, have the parasite that covers with the mutated strain,"_ it did not slip Quiet's attention, when Code Talker bowed his head with a grim expression. _"Be warned, there are so many risks and unknowns. You are free to decline, at a price."_

There wasn't even a second's interval of consideration before, she gave her response. _"I have already made my decision when I choose to return here,"_ Quiet deadpanned, _"I won't turn back."_

Code Talker smiled in way that seemed to say that he had already expected the answer, _"Good. Go get some rest, you will need it for what I have in mind for the cure,"_ he said, _"I have already assembled what I need for the project. I expect you at my laboratory tomorrow, or whenever you are ready."_

He wheeled away, and Quiet took off in the opposite direction as his.

A sense of obligement compelled Quiet to return to her old cell rather than anywhere else.

The entire time she sped her way there, she expected about a dozen personnel to be standing guard by the cell. She'd anticipated having trouble slipping past security when she get there, especially since she wasn't entirely at her best to be exerting her inhuman powers.

Far from it. The sniper honesty thought that she had the wrong platform.

Once Quiet made it back to the Medical platform, the first thing she noticed was that the slanderous posters and the snide graffiti all over her cell; they had been removed completely, not a trace left behind. The entire expanse surrounding the area was deserted, save for a couple of guards patrolling around the platform passing by then and again.

Did they vacate the area when she fled the Mother Base? Because someone clearly renovated the cell while she wasn't around.

She descended the flight of stairs to a cell—the room was almost twice as spacious as she remembered the last time she was here. The bars used for containing her things was evidently missing; they had relocated the toilet elsewhere and installed a shower cubicle in a corner as replacement. There was only a single element that remained unchanged: the cot. Her cot, to be more specific. She recognized the little nick on the far side of the small bed; the one she use to trace with a gloved finger.

All in all, it didn't look like the live human exhibition she use to live in anymore.

The sniper lay on the cot, adjusting her position as to not disturb the morbidity on her chest. Invisibility enveloped her just before she closed her eyes.

Safely out of sight, she slid into an easy sleep, remembering the day she changed had her mind.

* * *

 _Quiet woke up to a steady warmth streaming on her back._

 _When she opened her bleary eyes, she was immediately met with a high dune and an endless fog of sand. The sandstorm had subsided considerably, so it wasn't too difficult for her skin to breath now. The only remaining factor was bad visibility, the gust of wind that was still blowing, just as strong as before. It wasn't the first time that she had woken up, like this, to the horrible Afghan weather._

 _But, she was sure as hell had never woken up to an arm draped across her waist._

 _Alarmed, she pushed the deadweight off with an elbow and skidded away like a frightened feline. Only then did she realized that she had made a mistake in doing so, when Snake slumped easily to his back from the shove, a soft hiss escaping his lips. Battered and bloodied, his chest rose and fell in an erratic rhythm, his breathing shallow and almost non-existent._

 _Crawling back to him, the sniper tried rousing him to no avail. He just gave a small groan before his head lolled lifelessly to the side. For one moment, she assumed that it was probably due to a great loss of blood—judging by his attire and the blood splatter all over his face._

 _But, would a hemorrhaging patient have lips in various shades of dark blue?_

 _Something was wrong with him and she couldn't place it yet._

 _Her eyes fell to the two rattlesnakes that lay, dead, not far from where they were, in fact, close enough that it only took a lithe stretch to reach the limp carcasses splattered in their own chocolate-red blood. It had been vague to her at first of why she hadn't been able to remember why they were there. Upon inspection, she saw that one had been shot to death and the other was snapped apart by sudden force. Snapped... how it did—_

 _Oh god, no._

 _She recalled trying to warn him, trying to protect him from the danger as he did her, but all her dehydrated body could do was slump back to him helplessly. Through her foggy mind, she remembered hearing a pained grunt, a loud crunch then... nothing more._

 _Seizing his arm, she ripped away at the aramid fiber to see if her deduction was correct. Not venomous, please not venomous…At last, she tore away through the final piece of the shirt, he wore underneath the suit, and almost screamed in frustration at the sight. No prayers were answered for her; from where the bite had connected there was a greenish-blue color around the two hollows like, a bruise gone bad. A little twist of his arm and the poison had already started spreading all the way to the front of his forearm, the toxin penetrating deep into his system._

 _First-aid instincts kicked in and she impulsively attempted to remove as much poison as she could. Pinching at the wound, she winced when jet-black blood began oozing out, trickling down onto her gloves and all over the sand. Quiet applied the pressure several more times until the stream turned red. Whatever she was doing, however, clearly wasn't working, because the bite started swelling horribly. She couldn't tell if it was because of the venom' or the result of her lousy doctoring._

 _And yet despite it all, he's still alive._

 _Unfortunately, Snakes die too and so will Big Boss without treatment._

 _But, she wasn't exactly skilled as a field medic, only minimal knowledge of self-treating but never to anyone else. Quite the contrary, she was only trained to kill. Nevertheless, she made do of what she had, using whatever scrap of cloth she could procure from his torn shirt to bandage him and minimize infection._

 _Quiet took a glimpse of him while she worked, and stopped._

 _She hadn't noticed when he had awoken, but Snake was staring at her through an unfocused and unchanneled eye. His darkened lips quivering, but no words came from them. Although, she saw his eye arched in a way that told her that he was very, very confused of how he ended up this way._

 _There was nothing more she could do than to assure him. So she abandoned work to stroke his cheeks gently, hoping that he would believe her._

 _ **"Ahab, do you read me? This is Pequod. Ahab, what's your position?"** Pequod crackled through the device. **"We can't stick around any longer. Talk to me, Boss."**_

 _She prayed that the pilot was bilingual. Taking the gamble, she spoke down into the iDroid in Navajo._ "The Boss is here. Hurry."

 ** _"Ahab, I can't copy your transmission. Please repeat."_**

 _She prayed once more that it was just bad reception._ "Hurry. The Boss is dying."

 _ **"Again, I cannot copy. Can you repeat in English?"** and again, her prayers refused to be answered. **"This is Pequod. Ahab. Ahab, do you copy? Do you understand English? Hey, do you copy?!"**_

 _At this point, she fully understood that the only way to save this man was to break her vow. One which, if she did, she might as well consider herself dead._

 _It's either him or her, walking out of this alive._

 _ **"We can't stick around any longer. We have zero visibility."**_ Please not just yet, _she pleaded;_ please give me more time to think. _**"We're gonna have to pull back. Cutting transmission..."**_

 _A slight ruffle and she saw that the Boss had regained more of his consciousness, apparently enough that he tried lifting himself up. She disapproved of the action; excessive movements would only aggravate the venom inside his body. But Snake was insistent, forcing Quiet to restrain him by pushing him back down._

 _Luckily the Boss relented as quickly as his back met the ground and returned to his routine of short, tired breaths. No doubt, that his immune system was already kicking in to counteract the toxin, which meant that he didn't have much time left before he succumbed._

 _She sighed._

 _If her selfishness had led them both to this, then she wouldn't—couldn't—let her selfishness take his life away. Again._

 _Picking up the iDroid, she knew that this was the right decision to make. She met gazes with the Boss's confused one; him trying to predict what her next move would be._

 _Maybe... maybe this time she could redeem herself from everything she was indebted to him._

 _In plain English, which she was forbidden to use, she spoke: "The Boss is with me."_

 _And that was how she had ended up in the Afghanistan desert, alone, much later. With a heavy heart, she hung her cassette to the tree, and then slumped to the ground with a whimper. Somewhere inside her chest cavity, where it was utterly unreachable, something burned. It was as if her lungs were being doused in fuel and deliberately set on fire. Almost like the blaze from the incident in Cyprus._

 _So, what the Code Talker had said was true. The moment she spoke English, she would die a painful death. Given that if she was to be presented the same situation weeks before she met Big Boss, she would have resented herself. But now, she felt... okay with it. At least she would die for a cause; she died saving him._

 _Her porcelain skin as pale as the moon itself, if paler still. She smiled, as if to applaud herself and then departed to where no one would ever find her._

 _Big Boss would not see her death._

 _She actually didn't stray too far from where she left her parting words behind._

 _With the Butterfly rifle strapped to her back, Quiet headed north to the Aabe Shifap Ruins. Strategically and sentimentally, she thought that this was the perfect place to go._

 _Soviet guards did not venture into these regions often. She reckoned it was because of the rumor about, a silent assassin traversing this ruins that still ran true. Besides, she liked this place. There were plenty of vantage point and a creek of fresh water readily available._

 _All things considered, this was also the place where she had met with Big Boss again after Cyprus._

 _Quiet didn't even scout around to look for a spot; instead she went for the crumbled structure with double floor. The white mesh was visible by the time she slumped back against the arch. She fell asleep immediately whilst humming to her tune._

 _She woke up the next morning. She looked down to see that the infection had expanded over a large portion of her chest already. She passed out from the searing pain._

 _Yet again, she woke up at midday while the desert sun glared down at her cruelly. Had she slept for only a few hours or had another complete cycle of the day passed? She had no way to tell time, not that it mattered anymore. Sighing loudly, her head dipped down to the infected span of her body. It was still pulsing horribly, but she could no longer feel the burning-like pain... only a dull throbbing resided there._

 _The distinctive sound of rotor blades woke her the third time._

 _Slinging her rifle over her shoulders, Quiet trudged carefully behind the monolith. Ready to take aim to whoever she assumed: her final stand._

 _The barrel of Butterfly lowered once she had the chopper in sight. Pequod hovered over the sky, cutting slow circles before the door opened to Venom Snake._

 _There wasn't any reason for him to come here to this empty ruin, unless he was on a mission nearby._

 _He didn't do anything in particular, only having his feet dangling by the edge of the chopper observing the ruins below carefully. Instead of descending right away, Pequod continued circling the area. She didn't know what was it at first, but the Boss kept looking out at the desert highly expectant for something._

 _After another five aimless circuits later, Pequod neared itself to the ground. But Snake remained seated on the chopper as he was ten minutes ago, staring at the bleak desert with a despondent eye. Waiting for something—someone._

 _She suddenly realized that he was looking for her. But he couldn't see her this way, nor could she endanger him._

 _Then, she remembered that there was someone at Mother Base well-versed in parasites, and in her inventory, `she had something saved for the occasion._

 _What if there was actually a cure for her English strain curse? The hopeful side of her whispered the words of encouragement, something along the line that she would be able to raise the Butterfly for the Boss again._

 _Willing herself to test the theory, Quiet made up her mind. Cloaking herself, she silently climb into the chopper with what remaining strength she had. It wasn't easy, having to lift her pain-inflicted body aboard the ascending chopper. Thankfully, he hadn't seemed to notice the extra movements at all, not with when he was too absorbed in his own world and she hid the unwanted noises in the covers of the running rotor blade above them._

 _Another ten minutes later after Quiet was safely tucked inside the aircraft—unbeknownst to anyone in Pequod—Snake looked past her cloaked self and nodded slightly toward the pilot._

 _"Gaining altitude." the pilot announced._

 _"Control, this is Pequod. RTB. ETA three hours." the pilot turned to the Boss. "You should get some sleep, Boss." Snake only nodded in a defeated manner, retrieving his iDroid from his straps and then turned a tape on._

 _Her humming echoed in a static._

 _...Since when did he record her humming?_

 _Leaning further down on his seat and closed his eyes, he slipped into a troubled slumber that way. The Diamond Dogs attendant did not say anything about the tape resounding across the chopper, only looking down at the charts absorbing himself deep into work._

 _Curling herself up as to not cause accidental contact, Quiet watched as Snake fell asleep with the sound of her tune on loop the entire flight._

 _Hitching the ride with him was another rightful choice she made._

* * *

The two remaining Soviet soldiers were starting to panic over the sudden lack of numbers in their rank. Their rifles pointed in all directions as they flashed lights in search for the possible intruder, or maybe for their lost friends, who knows? Not that it actually mattered to him anyway. Lying in prone under the cover of shrubs, Venom Snake kept his eye fixated towards the two, waiting for the perfect moment to act. The Sneaking Suit blended perfectly to the shrouds of the night, none ever saw him coming.

They walked past each other in a foolish attempt to cover more ground. Snake sneered, then crawled carefully in one large arc until he would have a clean shot at the one without helmet. He raised his sidearm, training his eye perpendicular to the aiming indicator and adjusted his position until his aim was barely over the shoulder.

He hummed her song to calm his nerves, reminding himself what was important before taking a shot; as she taught him.

Snake breathed, held it, and squeezed the trigger.

The tranquilizer dart soared through the air in one linear line. Only a split second passed before his target swayed in his steps, shaking his head rapidly to remove the dizziness no doubt. A lone blue eye shifted to the right, it seemed that the other guard had taken notice of his comrade's dilemma for, he ran up from his post.

Lured into the open, The Boss counted in his head for the right moment to come. Patience, anytime now, anytime now—the sedated guard finally capitulated just as his friend reached him. Pushing himself off the ground, Snake sprinted the rest of the short distance to the final guard. By the time the Soviet soldier reacted to the footsteps, the Diamond Dog commander gathered enough momentum for his assault. In a flash Snake's bionic arm jammed onto the jaw of the guard, effectively rendering the man unconscious.

Outpost captured. The iDroid droned when the sonar no longer detected immediate hostiles in the vicinity.

"Great job, Boss," Kazuhira sounded over the device. "Now grab the Intel, it should be around the outpost. I'll have the intel team take a look at them."

Snake grunted and went to do as instructed. In one of the many tents lie the pieces of document to be analyzed.

With the Intel, he was ready to move onto his next destination, alone.

Working solo was always something he grew used to. Snake sighed, turning to the nearest cliff with a wistful look on his face.

He now knew that working solo was nothing compared to when, you trust someone to always watch your back.

"Heading to OKB Zero."

* * *

 **A.N: I... seriously hadn't expected that massive reception when I first posted this story. So thank you all!**

 **Until then, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know the flashback was pretty long at this one, but it's a way to establish a foundation of this fic of why Quiet remained alive even after activating her strain, and how did she get to Mother Base by herself, as one reader inquired. I hope it's a good rendition of the cutscene anyway.**

 **Oh right, and this story was before Venom Snake or Quiet knew about his true identity. Plot device purpose. Here's the thing: people keep circulating if Quiet knew about Venom Snake being a body double. I honestly think that she doesn't; not in Cryprus, nor during mission 46, because:**

1) The fact that Big Boss has a body double is not general knowledge.  
2) Even if they did, it would be dumb if they sent an assassin inside to kill a double when the real thing was staying at the same hospital.  
3) After getting Venom to safety, Ocelot stated that the whole world wanted Big Boss's death, and since XOF Quiet targeted Venom indiscriminately at the hospital, it's safe to assume that she doesn't know.  
4) The way she acted around Venom after recruitment indicated that she genuinely believed he's the legendary mercenary. Ocelot supported this during her Room 101 scene.  
5) C'mon, not even Kazuhira know about it, how outside source would?


	3. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The last time he was here, his mission was to deactivate a nuclear weapon—preferably to kill someone as well.

Funny how he tried infiltrating the same base the second time around, his objectives diluted into something a lot less extreme; but no less important as it stood.

"Boss, you are inside the base. I've updated your iDroid with our closest assumption of your objective. Your mission is to retrieve whatever intel remaining of the missing English strain, or more specifically; of Quiet," Kazuhira's reminder crackled through the earpiece, and Snake gave an affirmative cough.

The Soviets had decidedly reoccupy OKB Zero after Skull Face's apparent betrayal—and death. Intel had it precisely when they said that the Russian would not risk anything to allow the important base to fall again. Snake hadn't had any doubts when he chose to return here; it was going to be difficult. He'd been crawling through crooks and nannies for hours, even his military-physique had to admit, he was beginning to fell sore around the shoulders.

After hours of exerted patience and perception, he was finally on OKB Zero's interior. Tucking the intel scope to his hind straps, a scowl imminent on Venom Snake's face as he finish surveillance from his perch: above stacks of mishmashed crates of material. He blended in with the color of shadows, the crouching position offering respite to his constricted muscles.

The espionage expert took his moment to evaluate his MO before he would proceed further. He inspected his sidearm; there was only eleven rounds left with its suppressor spent teetering close to its limits, at most another five rounds before it gave way. Lifting his head, he spotted two snipers on lookout, one on the searchlight, five on patrol, another two on Walker Gears... and that was only the list as far as his device could see.

Snake swallowed a grunt hitching in his throat. It wouldn't take a genius to guess that the core of this base would be as heavily guarded as the entrance itself, outside was tenfold as fortified. On the hind sight, he supposed that large number did provide one mileage in the least; they wouldn't notice a few of their comrades missing as they would a smaller outpost. It had been a hour or so, and his intel team hadn't yet intercept radio reports regarding said issue.

Which meant that they wouldn't notice as well if the snipers up the vantage point would have mysteriously took off for hours long bathroom breaks, or dumpster dives, whatever available on the whim.

Deciding that it was time to move on, Snake removed himself from his hiding spot. Removing the snipers was easy enough, the assigned spotter apparently had terrible blind spot that he never see—or hear—Venom Snake coming up behind him. The shooter was efficiently dealt with a tranquilizer round to the skull, and then both were dragged off to the darkness.

Apart from their numbers, Snake thought that the base was a facile traverse. The layout of OKB Zero's indoors was surprisingly straightforward with only a few corners to turn. Ocelot once briefed that it was built based on strategic defense against open strikes. As such, the base basically neglected deterrence against infiltration. So to say, his objective was easy to reach: rusted steel door on the furthest hall with a cardboard sign read 'Storage Room' hanging haphazardly on the front.

The lock clipped at the slight wriggle of his wrist and it came loose, he slipped his body in, closing the door behind him.

Snake knew that this was another hurdle to cross when he clicked his flashlight on once he was inside.

Storage room was a literal term, littering across the room was what the new occupants salvaged from Skull Face's possession. Sifting through all this would take time, Snake thought somberly as he peeled his dried night vision goggles away. One bounded to be what he was looking for. With that in mind he started to rummage through shelves and drawers, paying particular attention to those locked or sealed.

Other than trivial information of Skull Face's activities of the previous years, there wasn't anything that could be pointing to his field of interest in particular. After minutes of fruitless search later, he resorted to the inconspicuous mountain of dust-collected folders abandoned at one corner. All seemed to be more unimportant subjects, until something black and bold caught his line of vision that his frantic hand froze.

Snake paused, then begin swiping through the discarded pile for that particular folder. A quick glance and it seemed that the beige manila folder was as unremarkable as the rest of those strewn randomly on the desk.

Printed on the front in English and in bold, black letters: 'Codename; Silent Butterfly', as it was simply named and treated like yesterday's newspaper. Snake knew the moment he saw the mugshot clipped on the first page of the files.

In a battlefield, Big Boss always told himself to never believe in luck, and irony just had to bite him in the ass.

By luck, he found it. Buried amongst trumperies and might as well be forgotten if he hadn't had good eye. He told Kazuhira of his discovery, who'd congratulated him for his efforts before pulling his iDroid to work.

His eye flickered dully to the long descriptions of her parasitic effects, which turned out as corresponding as to what Ocelot gathered, and he took in whatever the iDroid scanned the folder in a line of cyan. A blimp. Snake did the same with the next flip of page; this time a series of charts and broadsheets, presumably reports regarding her general health along the therapy.

The final page was what triggered him at last. Pictured clipped neatly in chronological series. A charred body, syringe filled in green, dead cold eyes.

Snake forcefully rolled the folder in a way that assured wrinkles, but he couldn't care less other than the fact that he would be bringing this piece of crucial information with him. "We received the intel, the team taking a look at it." As if his timing couldn't be better, Kazuhira hissed curtly through his earpiece. "But we got bad news."

"Lay it," he barked, wrestling the documents to fit among his belongings.

"They guy you hid woke from his tranq round, he's starting to raise an alarm on you. Get outta here before they tighten security."

"They already did," Big Boss huffed, plastering himself against the wall when he heard a commotion out his door. "Ready Pequod for pickup, I've sent in the coordinates."

"Roger that, Boss," Kazuhira paused before he finished, "Be careful."

A little smirk played on his chapped lips. Snake was always careful on all occasions; it was just a matter if the enemies decided to go all out on him. Aside from the extremely frantic units picking up their paces, a gunship hovering overhead.

Exhaling deeply, he liberated the sniper rifle from his back and crawled through the same passage he came in from.

Hey ho. Well, he did say that it was never going to be easy.

* * *

By the third hour of her stay, she had gotten familiar to the dank of what Code Talker claimed to be his laboratory. She huddled to herself at an undisturbed corner, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rubbed at her naked arms. The actions not necessary fueled by thermal awareness, The One That Covers had long since negated that factor off her survival list; warm or cold was just a matter of novelty. As for now, she wanted to stay warm simply because she felt like it.

The sniper watched patiently as the scientist conducted his work. Splicing, analyzing; the list of his work was endless. One time he was at his desk with dozens of petri dishes, then the next minute he would be at the centrifuge machine doing whatever beyond her scholarly capacity. Once, she had studied her environment when she had time to spare: the space in itself wasn't cramped that it prevent movements, but the staggering numbers of machines and cabinet occupied so much walking space... Interesting as to how fluidly Code Talker could move around in his wheelchair despite the claustrophobic situation.

The old man was meticulous to fine details as he was studious to parasites, Code Talker would never stop jotting down whatever reactions under the microscopic lens made. Most of the time his incorrigible habits of mumbling to himself would surface, not that it bothered Quiet at all. In fact, it actually assured Quiet that the Code Talker was sincere about producing a cure for her. It was the occasional frown on his face upon confounding something that worried her the most.

What if there's no actual cure possible?

She just hoped that her faith was well placed.

What Code Talker said he needed from her earlier was surprisingly easy to comply: he would approach her with a syringe or two, whether it was for a blood sample or the fluid from the infection. Then he would leave her to her own space before returning later on for the same purpose, over and over in a consistent rate.

She had inquired about the simplicity of her involvements, to which he explained about being the first phase of the entire process.

 _"Let just say that this is a stage where we would only gather information. Perhaps when we make progress, we might move on to procedures more empirical,"_ he spoke candidly, _"As in, I can begin administering doses on you rather than in a dish."_

 _"So... a guinea pig then?"_

Dark blotches circled Code Talker's rims, his expression portrayed insult than amusement. _"Not per say. Unlike a guinea pig, you are given a choice,"_ he riposted indignantly, _"I stand by my words; you are free to leave as you wish."_

 _"But I will lose my only hope of a cure."_

 _"I will continue this project with or without your assistant regardless, though you would most certainly help a lot in this matter. By far, you are the only survivor of a matured parasite, and healthy enough to be diagnosed without immediate setbacks."_

She nodded brusquely. Code Talker took it that she understood the circumstances and allowed the silence to sink in, not wanting to spoil his mood any further from where their conversation was heading.

Only a few minutes later, both heads turned towards the door, alarmed by their own parasitic abilities.

She'd strained her ears to identify the incoming noises. A set of peculiar _clacks_ resounded outside the hallway _, she_ recognized the sound as not from combat boots of passing personnel for sure. Quiet pulled on her camo trick, as the impromptu visitor aptly named it just before the door slide open to reveal the flamboyant gunslinger.

Ocelot strolled in to stare pointedly at the disarray of the parasite scientist's workspace. "You seem preoccupied yourself, Code Talker."

"The mutant Wolbachia had opened my eyes to its invulnerability... dodging sharks is all in a day's work for these old bones," Code Talker replied smartly, gesturing to his desk, "To be more precise, I am working on an extension of the vocal cord parasite for someone already symptomatic. Or as you would refer, a cure."

Observant eyes smiled to withered ones, Ocelot sauntered through the limited spacing to place a folder on the desk. "Then I believe you would find this useful, a copy of something useful Boss collected from OKB Zero. Pretty intricate, if you ask me," he patted against the flat surface, urging the old man to take the offer.

"This is?"

"The entire process of Quiet's parasite therapy."

Hidden eyes snapped to Ocelot's blue ones, and the piece of information on Code Talker's hand. The scientist visibly beamed at its content, one that Quiet was pretty sure involved her former self. "This... this is perfect! Imagine what I can make out of this!"

"You'd better. The Boss came back in a stretcher to get a hand on this." he said, "Speaking of which, I think it's about time I go see him."

"Remind me to thank him when he gets better."

Ocelot merely waved his hand as he took his exit.

 _Swoosh!_ She materialized out of thin air, wearing the same expression she did the day she left.

 _"It seemed that you are not the only one working hard for a cure."_ Code Talker remarked, clutching at the folder in hand.

 _"I know."_

When she was dismissed by Code Talker much later, she finally saw the purpose of her newly refurbished cell now that it had had an occupant other than herself.

Quiet only knew that it was a definitely a med-bay during the late afternoon visit when troops began piling in with new furniture. She took the guess when she spotted the heart-lung machine and a fridge—upon inspection, stocked abundantly in IV and blood packs. It's only about time they reconstructed the cell to be more practical since she's no longer there to occupy it.

Her initial speculation of an ER was only half correct, because this wasn't suited for any soldier's perusal.

She walked in to Ocelot and Miller standing over her cot, its apparent occupant tended by two medical staves in a frantic fuss.

"Tripped on a landmine and walked it off is one thing, but you'd actually try taking down a gunship with a... grenade?" Ocelot actually had the modesty to look more astonished than annoyed, "Color me impressed then. The best part is you actually succeeded, albeit you took a few shots for yourself."

Miller, however, had a more pragmatic outlook to the situation at hand. "Please tell me that this isn't a part of your legend building process. I've had enough since your 'I-blow-up-a-tank-with-grenades' agenda nine years ago, now it's 'I-blow-up-a-gunship-with-grenades'?" he gave a reprimanding look, paying particular attention to the veteran's half-singed feet. "What's this? Big Boss 2.0?"

"It was that, or I'll risk having Pequod shot down," Snake shrugged nonchalantly, his shoulders hunching to state his point as a matter of factly.

The invisible onlooker, couldn't help but to crack a smile. Old habit die hard she supposed, and really, his habit was a hard one to break. Miller obviously hadn't been there when Big Boss dealt with quadruples of tanks at once with her fighting along the sidelines. When he ran out of rockets one time before he could replenish his supplies, he'd taken the liberty to man the turret openly against an armada of armored vehicles and soldiers, regardless of his personal health.

She'd lost count of how many times she had to pull him behind covers. Sometimes, Boss just had this reckless streak whenever adrenaline called for it.

From what she'd eavesdropped, the Boss only sustained exterior injuries. Torn epidermis ran along the majority of the medic's lines, she was just glad that none of the bullet wound damage any nerves. Nevertheless, Snake would be confined to a cast on his left leg until he'd recovered; something which he did not take gracefully.

They'd left the boss to his own space shortly afterwards, inadvertently leaving him alone with her, with the former never knew of her presence.

Snake lied listlessly on the cot, frowning heavily to the burden weighed on his leg. Evidently he was restless, not an uncommon trait of his, judging by the way he twisted and turned on the mattress.

All of which she witnessed beside the newly installed desk to store his bionic arm and gears. She was still contemplating of where else she could make as her abode, since her former cell was now Big Boss's med-bay. Technically, it was Big Boss's space to begin with, but she didn't dwell too long on the subject.

Moments passed as she kept watch until at one point, she noticed that his form stilled. Tired of his inner war, Big Boss was finally asleep.

She'd thought that it's time to leave until she froze to the rustles of sheet behind her when she stood.

She turned to Snake glaring at her. And she was still invisible.

Her wild gaze never left his, until Snake rose and turned to her general direction. Intentional or not, he returned her stare with a glance of his own. The accuracy of his eye pinpointing hers was so frighteningly convincing... she thought that he _knew_.

Quiet swore that if she still had her heart, it would stop beating by now. Because he was starting to lumber his way at her direction now, his strides sure of its destination. She pressed her palms against her lips as tightly as she could, just one whimper—just one sound—and her conquest here would be all over.

He missed her completely and went for the Phantom Cigar on the desk.

* * *

The two commanding officers hunched over the desk cluttered with sheets, photographs and footages. One reviewing them with a benign nature, preferring to look for pivotal attributes from the available information. The other chose to glower critically at each detail, scouring for a weakness through the aviator lens. Each assessing the media tirelessly, the only thing conversed between them: banter.

And it was always Revolver Ocelot getting the first say.

"She's got some colorful achievements behind her alright. Labeled as one of the best damned XOF elite having the honor to execute the Big Boss herself, all taken away in a single night... I wouldn't blame anyone for wanting revenge."

"That doesn't justify her trying to kill the Boss." Kazuhira seethed.

Ocelot peered at him, "Aren't you all the same, Miller? You said everything was taken away from you nine years ago, and you are doing the exact same thing as the girl. Does that justify you as well?" Pause. "Quiet might've approached Snake for that reason at first... But instead, she ended up dying alone in the Afghan desert. What does that tell you?"

Miller's lips parted as if to retort, instead he allowed an interval between them to reciprocate the question, "Why are you always on her side?"

Ocelot was never one to faze. "No, I'm merely seeing thing from clearer point of view, at least somewhere not clouded by paranoia," he replied with flourish, "You know it yourself, at many occasions the Boss might not be alive if it wasn't for her."

"She was just saving herself!"

"Yes. Because the Boss saved her." he said, "As you."

The crippled blonde stuttered, the revelation stunned him like a baseball bat clobbered to his head, "I—Forget it," At least he still see reasons behind his resentment and bitterness, Ocelot hid a smirk as Kazuhira ultimately dropped the matter to talk business again. "Right. So whatever it is, we have to bring Quiet back."

"We are on the same page at that. Quiet still carry the last of the English strain after all. She might as well as be dead from what Code Talker say, but we still need her corpse back for proper management."

"She wouldn't have possibly left Afghanistan, but the Boss couldn't find her and our OKB Zero lead severed." Kazuhira paused, a considerate look passed his scowl. "Would she be captured by the enemy again?"

"The intel received nothing of this kind of report, and I personally don't think she would make it that easy. Her disappearance clearly meant that she was trying deliberately to stay away from the Boss. Getting herself captured again would do nothing but give away her location; you'd think she learned her lesson from the Palace incident."

"We just have to keep a look out then."

"You know, if I were her," Ocelot said cryptically, sweeping past the pile to pick out the—ah, there it is. Red gloved hand lifted the selected photograph as blue eyes appraised it: a screenshot from the days old footage depicting Quiet's staring downward regretfully with Pequod visible overhead.

Ocelot smirked, "I wouldn't be far away."


	4. Chapter Three

Beta read and revised by **: Infinity Comes To A End** as of 10/26/2015

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

She was tired of avoiding him, so she wouldn't—couldn't.

It took far longer, than Quiet had expected, to walk out to the med-bay that night. Much too long. Snake, stubbornly, trying to stay awake was one reason; her reluctance to leave was the other.

He took a long drag of his modified cigar… another, and then another, puffing blue wisps of soot out the corner of his scarred lips. His dulled senses never notice her presence, and she took advantage of that. This was one of the opportune moments when she could easily slip past him, yet she was still there kneeling by the same desk; holding onto every ounce of energy to keep herself invisible for as long as she could.

All that so she could continue staring at the face of the man she thought would never see again. Gazing at him, as mundane as it sounded, was something very significant to her. Admittedly, she missed doing this, like she'd done out of sheer habit (and inhibited pleasure) aboard the ACC; something which he would reciprocate, once he found the composure to do so.

She slumped her back closer to the wall, and before she could actually get used to the serenity of being close to him, frowned.

She frowned because this peace felt unreal and tenuous. On any other occasion, this would had been a savory moment, if only she was not deliberately hiding herself from him. She was well aware of her traitorous eyes drooping, without her consent, several times now. The difference was, unlike at the helicopter, she could not to succumb to her sleepy urges. Every shift or rustle he made, to keep himself awake, she mirrored the same out of circumspect purposes.

It pained her that, she couldn't possibly correct this anytime soon.

In the end, the snake and butterfly didn't sleep at all. He ended up waiting the night away, and so did she.

The navy blue sky had already stretched thin and was entering into the pre-dawn morning. They were both staring through the metal grate of a ceiling above, to the pale streaks of blue, as a guard from the final night watch came to give Snake an unneeded wake-up call. "Good morning, Boss. Up already?" the bulky man saluted; his posture awkward from having to greet his boss from an upper angle. Snake gave a firm nod to send him away, and then he moved over to re-attach his prosthetic arm.

He was still limping, she noted, as he moved about to gather his belongings. Some of his movements made him emit soft grunts and hushed hiss; the injuries were probably worse than what they looked. Where had he acquired such wounds from again? Oh right. OKB Zero.

Quiet had been to OKB Zero. Correction: she had been IN OKB Zero. Dangerous, as it was impregnable, when it was under Skull Face's dictatorship, she doubted it would be any less treacherous under the Soviet's command. The fact that Snake had returned in a stretcher, and a gigantic bruise marring a large portion over the left side of his face, said a lot. It made her wonder, had her past really been that significant that it was worth risking his life for it?

To him, maybe. If it was his notion of finding something of the English strain and what-not.

To her, very. If given the chance—which she most definitely had—Quiet would choose to: steal every piece of her past lay scattered, burn them, and be done with it forever. Which, the option was completely viable and offered plainly before her. Her path would eventually bring her to the Command Center, where what she needed would surely be there.

They would have realized the vital information missing and raised havoc about it. Worse yet, it would have given away an inkling of her presence around his base; something which she couldn't afford right now.

So it was to bury her past, or to carve her future. Quiet didn't need to weigh her options; her choices were succinct as it was brutally clear to choose from. The past was irreversible. Burning papers wouldn't change the fact that she tried to kill the Boss, tried to get him killed, and almost got him killed.

She casted a forlorn look to the man as he hobbled his way to the showering cubicle. A little squeak later, she heard the water running. She took that as her cue to make herself visible again, and dipped her head down to stare at the unhealthy obstruction standing between them.

At least she was spared the liberty to change her future, since the present was looking as bleak as it was. When she was absolutely sure that Snake was not paying attention, the sniper waited until the coast was clear before swooping out of her former cell.

Code Talker was very busy when she chose to intrude him that morning. His face showed mild interest when she walked in uninvited. Nevertheless, he welcomed her with his usual warm gaze and a wrinkled smile. She knew her presence wasn't expected that morning, so she obediently sauntered to her designated corner without a word.

 _"How are you today, child?"_ asked Code Talker flatly once he could manage to spare some time for her, his tone bearing the slightest hint of inquisitiveness. Quiet caught on without fail. She bowed her head slightly to a downcast look, contemplating if she should answer honestly.

After a pregnant pause, she did. _"Tired,"_ she judged by the way Code Talker hummed back yieldingly, he knew that she was referring to both mentally and physically. _"Very tired…"_

 _"I assume as much. You refused to leave the Snake the previous night,"_ her head lurched upwards—to Code Talker's raised finger in an effort to shush her. _"I happened to be there to deliver the Wolbachia. You must know that during your stay."_ And with that, he severed all questions brewing in her head.

Quiet glued her chin to her collarbone, hoping that her awkward position would hide the flush creeping up to her cheeks.

 _"Though it reminds me, young one,"_ he said, _"You certainly know where you stand amongst the Dogs presently but, surely you know where you stand from the Boss's point of view."_ the old parasitologist allowed a brief pause to sink in, and swiftly ignored the green eyes staring back at him. _"Had you ever consider revealing yourself to him?"_

He saw her grimace.

 _"Not until I am free,"_ she replied in a rancorous whisper, all humor in her dissipated. Not that it was existent to start with. _"He will see me as a threat. I am, after all, the vector of the English strain."_

He turned his gaze back to the vial purposefully.

 _"Believe me, child,"_ said Code Talker with double meaning. _"You are only a threat if you choose to be."_

She raised a brow, and before she could ponder whatever he meant, Code Talker rolled away slowly behind his fortress of paperwork.

* * *

"Finding Quiet is Diamond Dog's current primacy and top priority."

He remembered the way Snake first voiced the issue, inexorable and irrevocable. Try as he may to look blank and stony, the passion in his verdict wouldn't fool a five year-old into thinking that he hadn't had any ulterior motives behind his stoicism.

Work is work, he supposed.

The door creaked open; It Ocelot, showing up at the Command Centre, right on time. Personally, he didn't like the air there but, he had grown used to it. Furnished in the same steel wall, the entire space spelled nothing of aesthetic value. Other than the two leather chairs and the coffee table, nothing in the room deserved visual attention.

Ocelot gave his revolver an expert twirl out of habit. Back and forth, back and forth, and stopping with a click. He looked upward to meet Miller's irked glare through the dark lenses, and he'd sheepishly re-holster his gun as a feeble act of apology. Better to relent than to ruffle an angry man's feathers unnecessarily. He'd come to learn that Miller's brand of outburst was something different entirely, for a cripple without an arm.

They'd settled down into a comfortable silent soon after, or so he had thought. Annoyance seeped like a baleful aura around Miller's coat and Ocelot couldn't help but muse: it had to be Big Boss's fault. Finding Quiet... well, Snake had certainly scored the logical factor when he said "it's to curb the epidemic from spreading".

If only Snake put in more effort by, making it sound a little less dire than it actually was.

Not that he'd actually blame Miller for being so negatively stoked. Even Ocelot was troubled by this particular trait of Snake as well. Putting personal sentiments into the mix was always the Big Boss's greatest weakness after all... or, his greatest strength, if the situation called for it.

The sound of rotor blades closing in severed his train of thought, just as Ocelot lifted the coffee mug to his lips. "They're here," he exclaimed, settling his beverage down and Miller rose from his leather seat to trudge to the window. "Right on time."

Meeting the ETA exactly, Pequod made its slow, vertical descend on the helipad where soldiers began piling out.

"That's the fifth deployment to Afghanistan," the blonde stated offhandedly. "All that to search for a Cipher agent."

"And the English strain." added Ocelot kindly. Joining the Executive Officer by the window, he shared a similar gaze to the units debarking the chopper. Two soldiers exchanged salutes, one headed for a different platform, another approaching the direction of where their building was. "Let's just hope that this one came bearing gifts for now." Ocelot finished, returning to his seat.

Miller snorted at that.

Minutes later, Ocelot permitted access to the three knocks on the door. The soldier had saluted and he was told to be at ease, "Hidden Jackal. Reporting, sir," he explained, breathless from recent return from an expedition, "Thermals detected nothing of the target's presence and she did not leave any trails behind." Miller did not hide his displease at all, and Ocelot took upon himself to do the questioning before the other's temper escalate.

"Not even dust trails or footsteps?" pressed Ocelot.

The soldier's balaclava scrunched around the nose region, "Negative. We've the entire area combed through, you'd think that she levitate or something."

"I see." he accepted that easily enough, and in a slight extend, impressed. Leaving without a trace was Quiet's MO alright. "The search's a failure this time as well."

The following moment extended like a rehearsal of their last four deployments. After reaching several conclusions later, Ocelot had the soldier dismissed and enquired for Miller to stay for a bit. Once the soldier filtered out the Command Centre, Ocelot stood, switching off the recording machine, retrieved the tape, and swiveled to the less-than-impressed officer.

The brows behind the aviators arched. "What now?" they seemingly asked.

Straight to the point, Ocelot commented, "You seemed quite sure that Quiet's good as dead."

Whenever they spoke of the girl, Miller would never fail to refer her using past tenses.

"Code Talker said as much." replied Kazuhira briskly.

Ocelot gave him a cross look. "Could be. But we cannot rule anything out until we find her body." and the accompanying smirk didn't waver as he drummed his fingers onto the files, "Besides, we don't have solid evidence signify as such... it proves just the opposite."

"Your point being...?"

"Code Talker's conclusion aside, I have every reason to believe that Quiet's alive."

Ocelot's lips crooked as Kazuhira stood with sharp efficiency. Miller's outburst galore, he thought, and he quickly brush the anger aside by quickly inferring his point.

"If she is really dead, every English-speakers in Afghanistan would be by now. That includes those that we deployed, and they seemed pretty healthy to Me." he stood to his level as well, "Unless, she threw herself into a fire and cremated herself, but that would only speak of her loyalty to the Boss."

At that, Miller quieted, the plush of his leather seat creaked when he dropped his deadweight against it. His sensitive eyes filtered through the laborious pile on the coffee table and his mind was on the gunslinger's theory. Comprehension filled his pale irises before compunction took over as he purposefully brought his mug to his lips. A clink resounded where his teeth struck the porcelain surface. Damn. Empty.

"Miller?"

The XO nodded wanly in acknowledgement, to prove the he was still in the discussion. He placed his mug with much reserved patience. "Assuming that she is alive, where would you think she would be headed?" As ridiculous as the subject was, he couldn't deny that Ocelot sounded right.

"Well, there's an old Chinese saying. Don't know if it's old or Chinese at all but it goes something along: the riskiest place being the safest."

Several second hung in silence later, his words finally roused Miller from his broody (and possibly irrational) contemplation and he fixed Ocelot with a glower. "She wouldn't dare."

"Maybe. Maybe not." Ocelot deadpanned. "Would love to see her try though."

The discussion ended in a sour note. But to Ocelot, it ended with much enlightenment.

Later on, he visited Snake to hand him the tapes recorded from the prior engagement, and then left promptly. The Boss had been oblivious when he sat down to deal with the iDroid, but Ocelot had been staring at him very thoughtfully behind his back. And the med-bay surrounding him as well.

Would there be a chance that it's original occupant still here? Who knows? But he did know that the girl had always been good at hiding. She was even better knowing when to do it. And she just might know where to do it.

He smirked. Well, an ocelot never let his prey escape, he always said. Adding a little feistiness and superhuman ability to the mix didn't change the fact he would eventually find her. And Ocelot had a pretty good method in his mind already: by using the same bait he'd used the first day she arrived. As precarious as it sounded, he knew that Quiet would respond to one man only. He scratched his chin when those thoughts made him rewind a bit.

Or maybe... she had already bitten the bait. But she had not quite pulled on her hook to alert anyone just yet.

In that case, Ocelot surmised, all he could do for now was to wait, for which, he reckoned that it would be soon.

But he was right, wasn't he?

If his assumptions were correct, then he's one step closer. And right now, he didn't know if he was a step too close.

* * *

It had been a set of hectic days for the Diamond Dogs.

Despite no longer being burdened by a cast, Snake abstained himself from deploying onto missions and choose to help out around the Mother Base for some time. He was waiting out until he'd fulfill his role in some sort of mandatory rite on Mother Base, as Quiet had overheard Miller giving out specific instructions to the Diamond Dogs day in and out.

One uneventful day, she sat by the canopy of shadows as oblivious soldier passed by her in an orderly fashion. It ended with a funeral.

It wasn't by chance, that Quiet stumbled upon the bright beacon overlapping the last deck of Combat platform. She'd been wondering of why security that night had been incredibly light, while patrolling guard were still present, but they'd left many opening around the base, and this wasn't their modus operandi. Her first thought was that there was someone unseen—uninvited as well—snooping around and picking off soldiers like Snake would during his missions. So, she sought out on her own for the imaginary threat.

That, and she came across the pyre. An open fire without an alarm only meant one thing, and she'd seen this old flame reignited once before. It was a time not very long before she left. Balancing herself perilously yet expertly on a metal perch, she watched as the blaze flickers to the gentle breeze. Her eyes darted around nervously. Had it been another outbreak?

Solemnity was palpable in the air as it dawned onto her of what the ruckus was about.

Half lidded and draped proudly in Diamond Dogs flag, most were filled with martyrs dying in the name of Big Boss, some were void of its body. Stack of letters lay neatly beside each and every one of the lined coffins. Quiet wasn't familiar with them, but she knew what those were and their contents; those were the last rites of the fallen to be sent to their families or whomever it may concern. She never wrote hers because XOF didn't require her to, and she had no one to write to.

They were having funeral services to honor for those either killed or missing in action. Not an epidemic outbreak then; no men died from the infection, no men shot in the head by suicide, no men shot in the head by Big Boss. She grimaced involuntarily at the last part.

At least, Quiet had belatedly realized, that Snake had trimmed his hair slightly and shaved his unruly beard into a stubble for the occasion, somber as the atmosphere was.

The ritual in itself was rather simplistic: fellow comrades and acquaintances would step forward to give a brief eulogy, and then drop a gift or two inside the casket. And the end of each, the Boss would step in to re-tell of how he recruited them; whether a soldier from unwilling Fulton-extraction, rescued as a prisoner, or simply brave volunteers.

Snake would never forget to punctuate each eulogy by wishing peace to the fallen, and safe return to those missing in action.

The ceremony continued itself until Miller moved onto the last empty coffin in queue. She saw him frown and look inquisitively at the Boss.

"This is... Quiet's?"

Pink lips from the vantage point parted drily.

Hers...?

"Diamond Dogs or not, she belongs here." Snake declared, his tone an octave lower than usual, yet held a higher semblance of fervor than the previous one he mourned.

Looks were shared between the oblivious soldiers, ranging from quizzical to nonchalant. Ocelot belonged to the latter party; Miller was something else entirely different. Several eyes stared expectantly to a certain blonde commander, Quiet's included.

It was Ocelot who volunteered to free them all from their inner conflicts by breaking the ice himself. "You are rather quiet about it, Miller. No pun intended."

She saw Kazuhira's frowned deepened, stared at Ocelot momentarily, to the gentle fire, and back to the empty coffin. No shouting, no glaring, only a sigh. For the first time since she got here, this was the rare moment where she got to see his tolerable side, and why he became Snake's most trusted officer.

"She always rubbed me off the wrong way, and she still do—did," he corrected himself quickly, and struck his cane against the foothold gently, "But I'm not completely blind to what she had done for the Boss." Circling around the casket, Kazuhira gave a thoughtful stare to the white petals decorating the empty space, "I guess she did have her own merits."

Snake smiled with his eye, he knew there was a reason why he'd put up to Miller all these olden years.

Kazuhira ignored the affection for his own sake, instead turning to address his troops. "Does anyone have anything to speak on Quiet's behalf?"

She wasn't at all surprised that nobody stepped up to the offer... but the Big Boss.

"Quiet saved my life more than I can count. Perhaps there were those she did behind my back but, she could never tell." he recounted, "That alone is enough of why she deserved a place here, amongst all of us."

"Same goes for you guys if you hadn't figure out already, which no one did, but she was the one who tipped me off about the vocal parasite. Only then, we were able to make advanced preparation." a dramatic pause later, Ocelot produced a white bouquet and dropped it inside in a courtly gesture, "A whole lot of you wouldn't be standing here if it wasn't for her."

Big Boss saluted, the rest followed suit. When they lifted her coffin to the pyre, she was filled with a strange sense of pride that she hadn't felt since she was first inducted into the elite brand of XOF. But that was way in the past now. She lowered the scope of her rifle from her gaze gingerly. That wasn't Quiet resting in the coffin, she thought. She was still alive, wasn't she?

Instead, she saw that a proud XOF who died in her place at the hospital that night.

The coffin crackled as the pyre ate away at its splinters; the fire would slowly but surely reduce the wooden surface to mere ashes in a matter of time. Insignificant as it was to the Diamond Dogs who bear witness, she saw at how the flames burned her old self to ashes; the soot smothered her past like a veil over the shadows.

And she was now Quiet, just as they had accepted her.

Her abnormal ability aside, she was the same as the most of them. Before the Boss brought her here, she was once on the side where she had to point a gun at the Boss. As compared to the rest of the units whom came from all borders of the world; the Soviets, PFs; the Diamond Dogs accepted them readily enough. And if someday, should she finally liberate herself from the vocal cord parasite, what will make her any different than the others?

None.

Who knows, perhaps she might make a fine sniper unit in Diamond Dogs. She cracked a smile, well, she did prove her worth doing part-time with the very founder of the Diamond Dogs. Superhuman abilities would make good résumé material as well.

Being a part of Diamond Dogs sounded nice.

Her palm tightened resolutely against her chest. Soon, she promised herself.

One day, perhaps. One day.

* * *

 **A.N: Sorry for the delayed chapter.**

 **Just returned from oversea travels and my immune system suddenly decided to go like, "Oh, we are just gonna take a break!". That being said, I got caught by the worst kind of oversea virus; the end result is me in an 'ear-deafening, nose-clogging, eyes-spinning, throat-burning' cold. And my loving, visiting mothers went about and confiscate my PC and laptop, shut off my Wi-Fi (in fear that someone would steal my line since I am not using it). "No work for you until you're all better!" she said. I love her dearly, but 72 hours without internet access is... miserable, for a lack of better word.**

 **I got better, and I still had RL work to catch up with.**

 **To those concerning about the lack of fluff material as of yet, this is my defense:**

 **There's a reason why I label this fic as 'Romance'. It will come, but that doesn't mean I will shove two matured people with harsh upbringing and complicated history into an instant lovefest. But yeah, soon. Very soon, I promise.**


	5. Chapter Four

Beta read and revised by **Infinity Comes To A End** as of **11/12/2015.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

D-Dog was bored. The 'out of his skull' type of bored… and grumpy too. The wolf-dog's irritation was, clearly, transparent to any of the passing attendants. Unless they had immediate business with him, most would think twice about a direct approach. Those that did, turned tail and scurried away the moment they heard a familiar rumble in his throat.

Being injured and rendered out of action, the wolf-dog was generally unhappy about his condition. Other than scratching the irksome itch of white linen around his hips, he couldn't do more than chew his dreariness away through a rawhide toy. Constricted to a square block of steel with a lock, it didn't help to better his sour mood. If anything, it served to peeve DD further.

Worse thing is: it wasn't entirely his fault that he ended up like this. Ocelot was just as culpable when he happened to make a dangerous five foot leap that ended horribly wrong. Agility training be damned. The result was DD crashing, in a rather ugly fashion, through the pen and a heavy object fell onto his lower body. A visit from Big Boss and the veterinarian later (the only one available in Diamond Dog), DD was subjugated to what to be the worse week in his life.

DD paused, mid-chew, to the hissing sound of the kennel's door unlocking. He looked up briefly to a plump human entering with a slight wobble, and patted the top of his cage in a friendly nature. He huffed an acknowledgement to the handler, before returning his interest to his chew toy clamped between his jaws. His interest only piqued when the sound of keys jingling invaded his ears.

Feeding time had ended over half an hour ago so, unless it was time for the doctor to do something about the annoying gauze around his hips, there wasn't any reason for such an untimely visit.

He was correct.

A small click later, the cage opened to his freedom. "You feeling better, boy?" the animal handler waved a hand to the exit, "Out you go now, the vet wants to see you. Commander Ocelot is out there waiting to take you to the med-bay."

Finally. Finally, something went right for the day. DD didn't need to be told twice before he bounded out his cage; the viciously abused toy lay abandoned on the plush of the terry cloth bundle.

Dr. Pouncing Rabbit was the only other person he trusted to poke and prod at him, under Ocelot's recommendation. A zipping sound resounded across the room as DD held his hips upwards, feeling the chill of the air on his furry body. Curious fingers prodded there afterwards, and he craned his head to give the doctor a curious eyeball.

"Ah, you have healed rather nicely... There's no way to get rid of the scars but, you'll do better without these, won't you?" she cooed softly, lifting the bandages against his wet nose. DD sneezed. "Congratulations, boy. I'll say that you are officially cleared for active duty again!" Ocelot gave a smug snort.

"See, told you he would get through it."

"Now, now, I never said that DD wasn't as tough as he looked," Rabbit shot Ocelot a reprimanding look, "while I understood why you needed to take extreme methods in DD's training, need I remind you that I highly disapprove the usage of electrical flooring?"

Having those annoyingly itching gauze off him was good and all, but Big Boss wasn't at home to play with, and he was stuck on the Medical platform until someone was kind enough to ferry him back.

DD kept moving along from strut to strut. Stopping would mean that there would be random human trying to pet him, or having his tail tripped over. And the stench… Did he hate this platform now? He certainly did. Disinfectants, the tang of medical substances, sweat combined with blood; the myriad of these awful smells often made him restless. He had become accommodated to the salt of the sea long ago, but it still didn't bring relief to his sensitive nose.

His only constant relief was the gentle bass of the Boss's scent, which he hadn't been able to detect for the past few days now.

So, the wolf-dog circled the area in miserable strides, hoping to find a quiet place, preferably indoor as well, to stay before sensory overload could overwhelm him.

DD only went as far as the helipad, when his nose identified something sweet lingering in the air. His tail shifted enticingly as drool began pooling around the rim of his doggy mouth; something smelled incredibly sweet like the yellow piece of fruit the humans from mess hall fed him.

Scouting after it wasn't difficult, at least not to his acute senses. His path brought him down a flight of stair and DD recognized his surroundings immediately; he'd been here before, even if the furnishing differed the last time he was here.

Though, he knew something was wrong when he pressed his wet nose against the wall. There was a presence in this enclosed space. Subtlety hidden as it was, there was something among the three lines scents that made his hackles rise. His wet nose twitched as the hybrid isolated the scent individually: sharp of gunpowder, musk of blood, and mellow of woman. All three together couldn't possibly make a good combination, once his master returned from deployment.

Someone was here.

D-Dog growled softly at the blank space. The intruder might fool his eyes but the extent of his perception did not end at just that. From the heat of the skin, the thrumming of blood pressure, the saccharine linger; everything about the intruder gave away their location. The cacophony of Mother Base did not hinder his potential in the least. DD trailed after the expanding cloud of sweetness, criss-crossing around the narrow hall and finally stopped.

Sniffing things out was his first nature.

Protecting Big Boss from danger was his second.

Having pinpointed the exact spot from where the scent originated from, he was ready. Edging cautiously towards the site of interest, his paws bounded suddenly, propelling his weight forward in a gray blur. His jaws wide open to catch his victim between them—his muzzle met the steel wall in a loud _thunk_. DD dropped gracelessly, whimpering and recovering in one smooth motion.

The human chose to reveal herself after; he picked himself up from the ground.

DD curled his lips backward, revealing razor-sharp fangs underneath. Most would have cringed and backed away at just the mere sight of these attributes, but the woman... she had—what Ocelot taught him to avoid fervently—a pistol pointed at him. Their glares met, neither dared to blink as they attempted to outstare the other.

His hind legs lowered, ready to pounce again—until a whiff of the woman wafted past his sensitive nose, only then did DD gave up the meaningless contest. He arched his scruff to take another tentative sniff. Yes, the pungent sweetness belonged to her indeed; so did the flat of Big Boss's clement bass mixed within her whirl of familiar perfume. Whoever she was, she had the same lingering odor as the one inside that flying machine; the one they fly on whenever the Boss brought him out for a lengthy 'walk'.

DD, however, did not recognize her by scent alone. He shifted to his right slightly, prowling his way closer, slowly, as to not provoke the woman as he studied her. He recognized the female by her hunter's aura; he easily perceived her presence as close association rather than strong aversion.

So, definitely not an enemy. He retracted his body from the aggressive stance and relaxed his snappish jaws. Good thing that the human was on the same page as well, he saw her lower her pistol to stare at him curiously, no doubt puzzled by his arbitrary approach.

From her combative display earlier, the human was surely oozing of chary. She murmured something in an unfamiliar tongue, though he judged by the look of her eyes, it was somewhere along the line: "You are not going to blow my cover?"

He tilted his large head to the side, confused.

She didn't want her presence to be known, why?

For whatever reason, he understood that this human required protection from the units outside bearing the same emblem that he did. The prospect of an ally having to hide from another ally didn't sound so ridiculous to DD at all. Feral instincts often turned blood against blood; after all, he'd had his fair share of what that felt like.

But should he? The one-eyed dog trailed back and forth between the human and the stairwell. It was like some sort of decision. It would only take a loud bark or six before he was heard; he was taught to alert the Diamond Dogs of any unwanted presence. Or, he could oblige to her request and support her in this little espionage. He'd seen her with Big Boss plenty of times; enough that he didn't know when, he'd established this unknown sense of trust in her. Enough trust to believe that she would bring no harm to his master or the Diamond Dogs.

A defeated whine whiffed from his nose as DD rubbed his sides against her leg, the close contact ended as soon as it began; he only hoped that it convey his alignment to her.

Protecting this female - he didn't know if it was the right decision to make, and frankly, he didn't think the other option was any better. DD admitted, his judgment might have been a biased one, but the prominence of Big Boss's cologne around her was too strong to ignore.

Hesitance seeped from her body like a curdling cloud. If dogs can roll their eyes, then he would, but couldn't. The canine, instead, resorted to snorting his exasperation to the soft murmuring of the human. Exposing her? Well, he wasn't going to do so, and he gave a curt bark to say as much. When she knitted her brows suspiciously together, DD made an exaggerated snort and sidled closer to her. His stomach plopped to the cold ground and he trained his eyes to the stairwell.

If it wasn't obvious enough to her, he didn't know what else to do to show her his conscience.

She eventually settled next to him, sitting cross-legged as the clenching air around her left. He felt her tension escape her body slowly, and he dropped his chin between his crossed paws. It wasn't long before he felt tentative hand stroking his torso.

He was no domestic dog, Ocelot taught him as much. D-Dog had pride to uphold and simply wasn't the type to wag his tail just for anyone. And he really wasn't; the furry appendage of his barely twitched, even when he felt leathery material smoothing across the length of his fur, and inching closer to the scruff of his neck. Swiftly, he shot her a baleful glare, prompting her to back off immediately.

The female seemed hurt and perplexed when he was offended by her gesture of affection. He huffed at her, his mind only set to ensure that no harm would come to this human engraved deeply in Boss's own scent.

After all, guarding things belonging to Boss was DD's third nature.

* * *

Quiet had seen what had become of her scorched lungs on two separate occasions. Both times, through images from x-ray scans and this time held no difference. Radiographs had been added as well but, only to double check other scans. The first time it happened, she was in denial. The second time, she'd accepted it, but she'd rather not acknowledge it. While she remembered that those had been a bad experience for her, she _never_ had it this bad before.

It was almost unbelievable at the copious amount of egg constellations residing in her chest. The way the parasites squirmed and wriggled made a sour bile rise up her throat. A revolting frown never left her face. Obnoxious as it was, however, this was what inside her body right now. Half of her wanted to look, while half of her didn't. So, she settled to gaze questioningly upon the old Diné when he paged through the images himself.

Usually, Quiet refrained herself from questioning Code Talker's method whenever he worked, but she really couldn't help herself this time around. She pressed onto her stomach, butterflies churning inside like clockwork, conflicting emotions ranging between morbid curiosity and consternation swirling within.

"Hold still now, child," said scientist was now approaching her with a syringe in hand. The strange amber hue reflected against the dim lighting and Quiet held back from flinching when the needle pierced the thick mesh above her chest, making a small popping sound as it did.

She couldn't remove her eyes from the orange eddies circulating around the purple-white on her chest.

The next thing she knew was burning sensation washing over her chest like, molten lava threatening to eat her insides if she'd any left. She twisted and writhed, rolling off the floor with mute grunts and hisses.

It hurt.

A lot.

She didn't see it coming. This was a far cry from what she'd anticipated, when Code Talker first warned her, but now she knew what the darkened look meant when she first saw them from the elder.

If she hadn't been so driven since day one, she would have: called it quits, shaken Code Talker's hand, and thrown herself into the ocean. She would have done all of that if, there was even the slightest notion that the process would be like this.

Once he had seen enough, Code Talker quickly spun to retrieve another set of syringe; this one filled with a minty green substance, and stabbed it onto the same region after a moment. He waited until her thrashing calmed considerably, then turned to the jug of water, tipping it over head and her skin.

She remained immobile even after the torment, but her glare held an upbraiding glint when Code Talker offered a hand to help her up. She accepted it.

"This is strange indeed. The theory is a failure," he rubbed his chin, "but, I've made a certain discovery that bring us one step closer."

Would you mind explaining? Her eyes asked, she realized that her steps were still wobbly when Code Talker prompted her to look at the screen. The greenish pair of parasites bumbled awkwardly around the unhatched eggs, and Quiet knew immediately that the agony she suffered earlier was for naught.

"Your whole body underwent parasite therapy, in other words, the parasite is already a part of you. But, as you can see, The One That Covers reacted to the serum as well. Unless I find a way to isolate the vocal cord parasite and The One That Covers, your chance of survival is nil." Code Talker bowed his head slightly, apologetic, "The serum I administered to you earlier was a blend of bactericide and a small compound of rock salt. I planned that this would eliminate the vocal cord parasite..." she looked up at him, slightly alarmed, but the scientist was quick to dispel her worry, "but the following serum I administer was to counter just that."

"We shall conclude our tests as of today; you are dismissed for now until I require your presence again. Speaking of which," Code Talker announced, laced with a small amount of amusement, "It seemed that you have a visitor…or rather, an escort."

Her cloaked body swooped out of the door and she was immediately greeted by DD. The canine sat on his haunches, steadfast on the opposite wall, and his lazy stare indicated that he knew she was there. She bowed to give an appreciative scratch between his ears, and he allowed her to, just a bit, before resigning quickly. DD turned to the opposite direction with a cold shoulder and ushered her to move.

Whenever Big Boss was around, he was more like a dog than a wolf. His tongue lolled to one side, and he seemed to have taken a liking to yap Big Boss's head off or to smother him to death with his tireless affection. One could have easily mistaken him for a doorstep domestic dog if it wasn't the eye-patch he had in tribute to his master.

But now that Snake was not around, lonely DD was reduced to only indignant snorts and menacingly glares. The canine made it clear that he didn't care any less of interacting with her or anyone else on Mother Base (and he made his point that he didn't want to be interacted with) but, DD would always be her regular visitor whenever he could spare the time. Quiet didn't know exactly what compelled the loyal canine to stay, and frankly, she didn't mind, the wolf-dog had been her wondrous night watcher lately.

But, as always, DD was curt and callous with her, despite being a good company.

Who knew that even dogs had a double nature? Perhaps this was what Ocelot meant when he told the Boss that he shouldn't leave DD for too long. But there could never be too much personality for a canine to have. How old was he anyway? The first time she'd ever seen him, he was already the monstrous white wolf she'd seen today.

Other than Big Boss, the grey wolf seemed to tolerate Ocelot as a trainer, and that was the end of it. Only as a trainer. DD had no qualms taking orders from him, but never once she'd seen DD enjoyed Ocelot's company as he would Snake's. Strangely, she knew that Snake had no big part in raising D-Dog and yet, the hybrid seemed to love the man unconditionally.

Or maybe, like her, the dog saw something in Big Boss that he just couldn't see in others. That was one good reason for anyone to shed their abrasive side.

A few days later, DD was escorting the invisible Quiet to her cell, when DD suddenly stopped in his track at the sight of his trainer standing a few feet away from their destination.

Ocelot stood on the helipad, both his hands crossed behind his back, four personnel stood poised with a salute on the ready. The sight of Pequod descending overlapping the helipad and Quiet swallowed a yelp when she felt one-hundred pounds brushed over her leg in an excited leap.

DD bounded off her side and straight to the helipad, his eagerness oozing from his body, along with a barrage of sudden imprudent yapping. Ocelot caught sight of his excessive enthusiasm, and barked sharply for DD to stay put. The wolf had only obliged long enough until Snake pulled the chopper open, then all reservation was flung out to the ocean as DD pounced onto Big Boss, tackling the man onto his back when he barely got off the aircraft.

It stirred up an account in the back of her mind as she paid close attention to Snake's deep, reticent tone when he spoke to Ocelot regarding the status of Mother Base rather robotically.

She knew that these would be the days when, Big Boss would stay home for a while.

* * *

That night, a certain female sniper did not cross DD's mind when he'd followed his master all the way to his personal quarter. Admittedly, he'd clearly forgotten about her after spending the entire day of Snake's rare companionship—they'd play fetch, tug-o-war, and basically anything that a dog would enjoy and not in the form of Ocelot's version of fun.

Big Boss had brought in extra pillows from the utility room, and his spot was situated only by the foot of his master's bed, an aspect that DD was pleased about. Sleeping to the velvety musk of his owner was a good change to his stale kennel any day.

Hours later in the night, the wolf-dog began to feel a shift in the air. A breeze. He raised his head in the midst of darkness and breathed slowly, as if did not want to disturb the quiet surrounding.

Nothing was wrong per say, but it didn't help when the canine felt that the room was all wrong. The dark was wrong, the temperature was wrong, the stillness was wrong. DD's head elevated slightly to glanced warily at his master in bed; Snake seemed oblivious in his troubled sleep. Eventually, the calmness returned to the room again, but, it didn't stop the furry ears from twitching curiously and it most certainly did not stop his teeth from gnashing together to quell the impending anxiousness.

The breeze came again, and his quivering nose caught it this time - a sweet, mellow aroma tainted slightly of salt and chemical. Alarmed, he jumped to his paws at the shadow stirring on the other side of the bed, the silhouette in plain view to his night-vision and DD couldn't resist the instinctive growl. How many times must this woman appear uninvited and undetected?

Quiet loomed over the sleeping man, her hands kept mostly to herself and she'd only noticed the dog's glower when she heard him grumble.

She didn't seem to carry any harmful intentions with her. But for good measures, however, DD made another guttural sound at her, this time bearing more enmity — daring her to come to him — when there was a violent thrash of his master's arm on the mattress that stilled their encounter.

The blanket kicked down to his ankle as Snake tossed to his side, his arm whipped the air before his fist squeezed into a frantic ball. Unwillingly, the hybrid bared his fangs and growled to himself at his master's trembling form. There was moisture pooling on his brows and his jaws tight, DD could even make out the little spasm on his master's body; a telltale of Snake's dilemma.

The shadow on the other side stirred again. Quiet stabbed a finger deliberately at the man in bed, a pleading frown etched on her face, and then she'd step back and pat onto the spot next to his squirming owner. DD regarded her wild gesticulation carefully, and came to understood what those actions meant when he took upon himself to get his master awake. His wet nose nudged onto Snake's sweaty face, that failed, and he nipped at his arm.

Snake woke rudely with a loud grunt, a knife braced in his grip from under the pillow. The hybrid hopped on all four just far enough to not get caught by his master's reflexive movements. Blue eye opened to look at the canine in surprise. Big Boss didn't seem to remember the wolf that was with him all along, and that was worrying.

He looked down at the blade and rubbed his chin with his prosthesis, all muscles poised and DD could only watch, partly curious, mostly worried. Eventually, Snake reached forward to beckon the dog closer.

Sorry, buddy," he said, slipping the same knife under the pillow to give the dog a good scratch. The loyal canine whimpered softly at the contact, and stretched forward to give Snake's bare stomach a lick, finding it tasted salty with sweat. He lifted his head to look disapprovingly at his owner, and barked once to voice his displeasure. "It's alright, just a nightmare. I'm fine, go back to sleep." The wolf retreated obligingly, trotting back to his previous spot, and only stopped once to contemplate the space between the door and the chair.

He looked around to find that the woman was no longer there in the flesh, but he knew better than to keep that credulous mindset of his.

Snake settled back to the pillow without fluffing it, this time reaching out for his Sony Walkman and turned to face the opposite side. Back at his cushion, DD kept his gaze fixated at one particular corner of the room, but chose to not acknowledge his master about his discovery.

D-Dog, instead, yawned and tucked himself closer to sleep, thinking that it's best to leave his guard duty to someone else more devoted about this.

* * *

 **A.N: I got the chapter ready about a week ago, but decidedly, I got it scrapped up and write this DD-centric one in tribute to all canines out there and mine. Dogs are amazing, and if any of you say otherwise, then our friendship is over. Nuff' said, 'kay, bye.**

 **Yeah, and it would've been quite interesting if DD would have interacted with Quiet in-game.**


	6. Chapter Five

Beta-read and revised by **Infinity Comes To A End** as of **03/22/2016**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

 _"Boss, about Eli and the boys..."_

 _"You know where they went?"_

 _"We're still working on it but the chopper pilot, they had fly them out of there, is back."_

 _"…And?"_

 _"He said, once Sahelanthropus and the chopper got out to the sea, they split up and headed in different directions. The chopper headed straight for Africa. They made it about 50 miles inland, before running out of fuel. The kids used vines and duct tape to tie the pilot to his seat before they disappeared. He was almost dead from dehydration when the medics found him."_

 _"They left him alive on purpose..."_

 _"Yeah, they are calling out to us. They want to settle this."_

...

It was cold.

Wet mud squished and crept its way higher up his calves to scrape his kneecaps, as Snake waded through the watery disc of dirt and water. Rising gray clouds dabbed the high sun into a smoky eclipse, and it didn't in the least affect the parching humidity of the salty marsh.

Despite the insufferable heat and sweat clamming on his skin, it was so cold that Snake had to fight the shiver running down his spine as he trekked deeper into the heart of the island. He was pretty sure, by now, that his body was a map of goosebumps and mosquito stings; something about the marsh made his blood run colder than he'd ever felt in a while, and Snake rarely ever felt the cold.

He was trudging through another salt saturated terrain when, he spotted another trap. That was the sixth corpse clad in a white, bleeding into pink, hazmat suit he encountered in the same hour. He circled around the carcass; this particular one was killed in a spiked pendulum made out of logs. Judging by how the rifle was lodged firmly in-between cold, dead fingers, Snake knew that the XOF never stood a chance, and he knew by heart exactly how unwavering these guys were at their mission, Skull Face or no.

A triggered snare rested only a foot away from the hanging death device, the sludgy brown vine concealed perfectly in the damp mud. Snake gazed up to the top of the knot where the pendulum was held sturdily by the branch of an oak, forming an invisible triangle tangled in the midst of the vine marsh. The traps were intricate to say the least, if not a bit too macabre for Snake's taste. They were methodically designed to kill and served their purpose just fine. The coordination between the target and the trap was calculated precisely, no one would doubt that an adult did all this.

Except, it wasn't an adult.

What disturbed Snake the most was the actual architects, considering their age. They were kids, and yet they actually possess such dark astuteness in the arts of killing. To think that this was only the beginning of the many ghastly contraptions planted all over the place. Another few treks away and there lay another man face-first in the mud, the hazmat suit riddled in circular tears, no doubt killed in the same manner. Snake could hardly believe that he was traversing through a self-declared 'No Adults Allowed' kind of land - all this was hardly childish amusement.

He knew he had arrived when the rising soot now curled in the air like a smoky, black tentacle. The animated children lounged by the foot of the humongous machine, oblivious of the impending danger from unseen direction.

Snake looked upwards, and Eli stood upon the cockpit like a proud sovereign to his kingdom, unswerving and unrelenting.

Well, he was right, the smoke signal wasn't anything decorative around the big machine, it was indeed meant to bring him out… Smart kid.

...

"I knew you'd be through here." Eli declared from his perch, looking downwards to the dwarfing Big Boss. A little arrogance played in his voice, and Snake allowed the kid to take full credit, considering the fact that he'd single-handedly wiped out the XOF like a hand swept over dust, evident from the corpses littered all around him.

"You're not a kid anymore. You can call your own shots," Snake warned, "but at this rate you'll be dead before you had a chance."

The White Mamba laughed a little in defiance, "I'm free to die however I wish." Snake swore he could hear the smile as Eli spoke. "Yes... Free." Pequod hovered daringly closer, and Ocelot's voice boom through, "Are you going to fight the whole world?"

"And what's wrong with that? Fighting the whole world?"

Fighting the world sounded awfully familiar. It was Snake's turn to laugh.

"Nothing is wrong with fighting the whole world, except that you don't have to, and you don't deserve to. That's my job to do, kid."

There as a short moment of stillness, before Eli gritted his teeth and snarled: "You don't get the last words, Father. I'll break the curse of my heritage. And to do that," from atop of the dangerous device, Eli jabbed a finger between Snake's eyes; "First, I will kill you!"

Shots already fired, words already exchanged.

Sahelanthroupus was on the move, and so were the Diamond Dogs ready to do battle.

...

"I was created by Cipher, and I was the flaw. My fate was written in my genes," Eli smacked his curled fist onto the rocky surface in vain. "I am the loser."

"You," he spat, "all because of you." His other hand rose, and Eli glared at it as if it was not his, hating what he saw, "I am not me. I'm just a copy of you."

The kid had grown up a bit too quickly and bitterly. "I will surpass my father... Destroy my father..." - Snake cast Ocelot one look to tell him that as much - "Destroy you!" His grip was firm, albeit flimsily, a little tug would have removed Eli's hand from his but, he chose to let the boy have his last rant. "I'll kill all of Cipher; I'll destroy your precious world." Despite oozing no small amount of menace, Snake could only take pity on the empty promises.

Ocelot neared. "There's nothing you can do for him now," leaving him here would be the best course of action, what was he meant to say - before another Dog stepped in with orders from Command Centre. The cat ultimately turned away from Snake, barking orders and preparing to depart.

Underneath his gas mask, no one saw how Snake smirked bitterly.

"Live... Live!" the White Mamba willed himself to recover. Eli's feeble attempt to push himself upright was soon thwarted when he saw Big Boss through the barrel of a gun.

The child had barely brush the borderline of a man, but he had spirit twice his age. "You're one hell of a soldier." Snake spoke truthfully, and was not surprised when his compliment was returned with a death threat. From looking at the younger blue eyes, Snake saw two pools of fury and disdain as the life slipped slowly out of him. The vocal cord would soon infest in his lungs, and if not, the napalm would scorch him alive. One way or another, he couldn't prevent Eli's inevitable death, whether he deserved it or not.

Even Snake had to admit, life wasn't fair for this kid; the White Mamba was only one bullet away from being killed by the man, he so desperately wanted to kill.

The least he, the executioner, could do was to give the sinner one last innocent wish: a choice of a painful revenge or a painless death. "That's right," Snake removed the entire clip, making sure that his movements were caught by Eli as he re-chambered one round into the gun. "Don't blame yourself, blame me."

He turned to move a few steps away, placing the loaded firearm perpendicular to the dying boy's body and walked back to the chopper without ever turning back.

...

"Diamond Dogs evacuation confirmed, all there's left to do is to sanitize the island."

Snake slump his body forward, the weight on his shoulder suddenly unbearable. Ocelot turned to him by a small fraction, sounding just as tired as he was, "Your order, Boss?"

The isle below was filled with men and children, either dead or alive or somewhere in between. He wondered, idly, if Eli did what he had to do... he never heard the gunshot when he left, nor did he ever feel a bullet in his back.

Snake turned and gave a small nod. He didn't know that just one small movement of his would cause such severe repercussions.

"Commencing napalm bombardment!"

He'd barely register the way the Diamond Dogs aircraft swooped past the air like eagle in the sky. His vision shifted and narrowed to the orange mushroom cloud seeping through the atmosphere. No longer looking through the window, he was looking at the window and the reflection it bore.

There was a bearded man, blooded etched like oil stains on his face, the demonic appendage elongated on the forehead, staring back at him.

He saw a demon staring back at him.

...

The medical staff was ready for him the moment he stepped out of the chopper. Ocelot followed a few others to the other side without a word, he knew what the situation was, he always seemed to know everything ahead of Snake.

It all happened in an uneventful blur that Snake dutifully trailed after the medic's direction. The next thing he knew was that he was stowed away by staff members to the west wing of the building, deep inside the facility and straight into a shower - a real shower with curtains and glass tiles. He was asked to strip, and when Snake dumped the worn clothing in an outstretched basket, he knew immediately that they will be disposed; cremated until no traces were left remaining.

A while later and the water squeaked open. The ceramic tiles sweated from the steam and Snake pushed his body a bit forward until the stream hitting his face directly. He winced at the heated contact, and dipped his head to watch the remnants of the previous battle roll down his body.

Is this what it felt like for a reptile to shed its skin? The darkened water roiled and spiraled under his feet, Snake continued to watch unblinkingly as the stream ran clearer with every passing minute. Funny, he couldn't perceive what the medicated soap smelled like, and he certainly felt no lighter after having the layers of burden washed down the drain.

Had Eli reached that far out to him...?

It was only that he stepped out into the open air that, he realized he was just a floor below an old friend.

Paz was reading something when he'd walked into her infirmary; a book by Galvez. The moment she noticed his presence, she abandoned her book to look up at him. Despite that he'd visited her on multiple occasions, her bright smile never failed to make him falter. It was as if whatever had occurred to her never happened - to the amnesic Paz now, which was true, at least.

He took a quick glimpse over to the horrid V-shaped scar on her abdomen, a painful reminder of the Cipher employed Paz he knew before and also the MSF Paz then. He heard her tapes before, those which were brought in through scraps and chars of her room, and at first, was both fascinated and horrified by her real nature - the one gripped by Cipher, the bitter and conflicted girl he never knew.

"Oh hello, Snake!" but the Paz sitting before him now was Paz, sans all of that; just a student with dreams of peace. She waved at him, and then slipped her bare feet to the cold floor. "Is there something you need?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, the air around her bubbly and vivacious. Sometimes, Snake wondered if it was better for her to stay this way rather than to recover her memories.

In lieu of producing the aged photographs, Snake tucked his hands - flesh and bionic - deeper into his pockets, and only shook his head at her this time.

"Paz," he began, all doubts circulating in his head. He was going to ask her opinion on a few of things. Would she ever forgive him for not considering her circumstances? Will she consider re-joining his venture should she finally remember who she was? He ended up with his tongue tied mid-sentence, and before he knew it, was saying something else entirely different, "are you, uh, comfortable staying here?"

She frowned at his awkward question, pressing her index finger to her upper lips and it somewhat reminded Snake of the younger Paz when she would do the same. She used snuff, a voice whispered on the back of his mind, and Snake pushed it aside. "Umm... well, I did think there's something wrong with the air conditioning here. Sometimes it gets too warm, and sometimes it gets very cold." she smiled, flicking her blonde hair back, "But I'm alright, don't worry about it."

He nodded, seemingly taking her words into consideration. But really, his mind was somewhere far away.

"You looked troubled," her notion caused him to look at her.

Was he really that bad at hiding the cloud looming over his head? For the record though, he was troubled.

"Say, Snake..." and he looked back at her appropriately, "Is Peace Day coming up soon? I bet that'll cheer you up a lot."

He froze.

Peace Day was ten years and three days overdue, all because of Paz herself. She ruined the chances, the anticipation, the MSF; everything.

And he'd once hated her for it.

"I don't know." Snake heard her hum a desolate reply, he didn't dare to turn back when he spun on his heel and engaged the release button.

...

Nightmares were plenty common for a military man like himself, Snake reasoned, so there shouldn't be any reasons for beating himself up over them.

But, this one time, he was.

The soft linen bed felt prickly to his bare back and arms, no matter how he would turn to either side, he simply couldn't fit in to his own bed. He'd only stopped when he heard a soft growl from DD at his side; the loyal canine did not appreciate his discomfort. He swung his legs to one side and stared past the gray of his quarters, and then cupped his face into a metallic palm.

Big Boss was called a lot of things: a traitor to the world, a demon among soldiers, a father to his nation. Should the case be brought up to him, he wouldn't have agreed more to all of them, and sometimes, was proud to be them. However, if anyone were inclined to pry deeper, they would discover that there was something Big Boss would never portray himself as.

He was a killer, yes, the best at that, but he was no murderer. Venom Snake might have what it takes to kill someone, swiftly and effortlessly, but he was never driven to kill. Be it for personal purpose or a mission's criterion, it never felt right having to rob someone else's right to live. If circumstances forbade, however, spilling blood would be something inevitable. And he had long since expected this since the first day he'd signed up for merc work.

He still loathed it to today.

Seeing Paz again would always refuel his insecurities. Nine years ago, he had wanted to kill her for her deceitful nature.

And what he did to Eli, a child, he—

"Snake, you in there?" Miller's head poked in through the jarred slit. Snake didn't know whether to be thankful or resentful of his comrade for interrupting his self-loathing so, instead he opted for neither. He grunted, sitting up straighter in his bed. DD barked once at the visitor and Miller sauntered to his usual spot by the door to continue his monotonous drone. "I just dropped-by to fill you in. The R&D is working on Sahelanthropus. It's battered as expected but, they are doing everything they can. If repairing is not possible then, one of these days, we'll have it dismantled."

When Snake said nothing in return, Miller eyed his comrade until their gazes met and spoke softer. "I heard about what happened earlier today. That kid was one hateful brat I'd rather not deal with. I'm sorry that it had come down to that. The English parasite simply had to go, no matter what form it took."

There was an edge in Miller's words, subtle as it is, yet sharp like a blade, it cut through Snake's stoic demeanor. He knew that Kaz was trying to tell him something, and they both knew in unison of what he was trying to deliver.

"I gave it some thought lately," Miller admitted after a short pause. "You know it will happen, Snake. You can't escape or deny, but it will happen..."

The linger in Miller's voice disturbed him. No, he didn't need this now, not when he had barely gotten over today's event. After a long hiatus, Snake finally spoke up: "Kaz, we won't talk about this until we bring her back—"

Miller interjected sharply. "—and I am sorry that I have to break a promise, if this is what it takes to snap you out of this."

In a single motion Snake stood; suddenly realizing that there was no avoiding the subject any longer.

"Believe me; I am no longer against Quiet on a personal level. Hell, maybe I still don't trust her but, I don't think I want to chuck her off into the ocean at first sight anymore. But Snake," Miller pressed, albeit gently. Snake looked up through the darks lenses and he saw that the cantankerous XO left, and was replaced by the levelheaded old friend he knew nine years ago, "If there is no saving Quiet, will you pull the trigger?"

Snake turned silent so, Miller conceded and left without hearing his answer.

Will you pull the trigger? Kaz's words rang in the back of his head and Snake grunted. That man just had to remind him of that.

He knew that Kaz meant no harm. The man wouldn't have anything but good intentions. But it couldn't be helped that the Boss felt trampled over by his XO's prompt. He remembered that day when he first promised Kazuhira of what he would do to Quiet; it came out easily as he would to breathe.

Snake rose tiredly to retrieve his Phantom Cigar and headed straight to the desk. DD watched him curiously but, went back to sleep shortly afterwards.

Will he really pull the trigger?

He didn't think he was so sure anymore.

* * *

Snake was losing sleep.

Once she came to learn his sleeping schedule, Quiet became aware that he was highly tolerant to jet lag and that he could fall asleep anywhere, as long as it met his time and place of choosing. She also knew, for a fact, that he could forgo sleep for three days in a row without suffering hindrance from deprivation.

During the day, he would be roaming all over Mother Base, never staying still at one place long enough for her to pinpoint him, except when he was at the mess hall for a bite (his appetite was that of a horse; actually he could eat an entire horse if he wanted to). Then, he would be off doing whatever he fancied for the day; his haphazard activities mostly run-of-the-mill, but highly productive as well. He would train with his fellow soldiers, spar with Ocelot, manage Mother Base with Miller, or he would be at shooting ranges all over the struts.

At night, he would join up the night watch, or play with D-Dog and if he didn't, he would return to his quarter and listen to the radio. She could tell by his lack of enthusiasm that he wasn't particularly interested to whatever playing on the radio, whether it was an upbeat song or a melancholy one. He just needed something to fill in invisible silence, and it was so loud that sometimes, it became an unwanted din for Quiet to sleep in the same room as he.

She wondered why he wasn't bothered at all.

The point was moot, however, because Snake never sleep, not since his return from his expedition with Ocelot.

It was only uneventful five days had passed before the realization hit Quiet like a bucketful of water tipped over her head. It came suddenly, yet with surprising clarity, though the day itself wasn't special than any others. She just happened to be nestling herself just behind an opaque column when she saw Snake, almost mechanically, lite the Phantom Cigar with his iDroid. She's drawn her legs up her chest, frozen herself still as statue, and perceive the routine in his aloofness.

She would usually enjoy his presence and him without a shirt in his own privacy (even if he didn't know it he wasn't) was always a bonus, but lately, Quiet had taken a trepidation of observing him like she usually do. She would always leave in the middle of the night, and he would look as haggard as he was the next morning.

He'd been using that strange Phantom Cigar to pass his nights.

Somewhere deep in Quiet's mind, she knew that she shouldn't really be having these motherly urges about something as habitual as sleep in itself, especially not to someone as independent as Snake, but his unhealthy habit had been a major bother. One time, when she'd focused her vision on him, she swore that she could see the dark circle lining under his eye.

Apparently (and fortunately), she wasn't the only one to discern this detrimental attributes in him.

One night, Ocelot made sure that DD was locked inside his kennel when he chose to intrude Big Boss's quarter. She'd heard his footsteps approaching from the hallway but, she didn't expect the feline to neglect knocking. The burst the door open with him saying nothing; his stride decided as he slammed the machine sitting by Snake's side off; effectively cutting A-ha mid-croon.

Their gazes met and Ocelot had the first say.

"Hadn't seen you sleep a wink since the last time we went out together." Ocelot made sure that it sounded like a statement, not a question, but it demanded answers from Snake all the same, "You ought to get some shuteye, Boss. Relying on the Phantom Cigar to pass time doesn't count."

"I'll sleep when I need it," retorted Snake.

Undeterred, Ocelot stepped forward. "Which you obviously do right now, you're a soldier, you should know what sleep deprivation would do to you on the battlefield."

Snake's and Ocelot's kind of an argument was different, she'd come to learn. They didn't need to raise their voices, they didn't need more than five words in the same sentence, and they didn't need to glare. And it's very unusual that his kind of argument would escalate into a full-on CQC sessions. Tonight, however, was an exception in which she had to witness.

Quiet held her stare at Snake's prosthetic hand latching onto Ocelot's unceremoniously, twisting it upwards over his shoulder. Ocelot flipped over in cattish gracefulness and landed squarely on his feet, relieving himself from the pressure and ready to counterattack. Smart footwork by Ocelot later, and both men had each other on a stalemate. And Ocelot was never in the mood for good ole' fisticuffs, who said he had to play fair?

So, he did what he did best and feinted a quick right jab, one which Snake ducked as he would orchestrate it, and Ocelot retracted himself to hold the lowered man in place.

Having gained the upper hand, Ocelot stabbed the syringe to Snake's nape without delay, stepping back to watch as the Boss tried pulling the needle out with a venomous glare right at him. With a small clink, Ocelot's gaze dropped to the syringe rolling off the opposite wall.

The victor, though using underhanded trick, was quite obvious when Snake's bulk fell insentient to the floor in a soft thud. Ocelot waited for a moment, and when he was absolutely sure that the Boss had succumbed, he willed himself to step closer.

"You know, your bad mood's is going to affect morale," he reprimanded softly after a silent interval, sounding much like a worried parent chiding his rascal child who simply wouldn't listen. With a defeated sigh, Ocelot hefted Snake to the unused mattress. He didn't go all the way to tuck in the sedated Boss yet, leaving the one-eyed man sprawling like a dead man didn't sit well with him either. Instead, he resorted to draping the sheets so, that it hung loosely over his waist, "I'm far too old to play babysitter with you."

Thusly, he headed for the exit, and stopped between the door-frame.

She didn't miss the way his fingers flexed against snugly-fitted gloves but, a lapse of reflex cost her the precious moment to realize the predatory glint flashing through his eyes. His body pivoted sharply, and his revolver thundered into life. Her glance shifted quickly from the circular dent to her left. The shot didn't connect, and judging by the complacent arch of his brows, Ocelot had his aim well placed, and well shot.

"I know you are here." he declared simply. She could still hear the vibration ringing from the shot. He fired one round right next to the spot where she was hiding, this one on the right, "I promise the next one won't miss." He drawled, twirling his revolver.

Other than blowing his head off, she really didn't have much of a choice. Ocelot had her exit blocked and she surely would've alerted the entire base should she burst herself through the window. Though she didn't think that Snake would've appreciate it very much to have his second-in-command shot dead so, all that remained was one option.

Ocelot held back a grimace as the air shifted in streaks of green and blue, though he didn't held back the twitch on the corner of his lips when he was met with pale green eyes.

"There…that wasn't so bad, was it?" quipped Ocelot. Instead of being thoroughly alarmed by her presence, Ocelot shrugged at the mere sight of her, as if she was an everyday sight. So much that in fact, he smirked, obviously indulging Quiet's reactions, though not very much so with the sniper rifle pointed on his face.

"Back already, huh?" he remarked amiably, "Not surprised, the man Boss is... he's hard to stay away from." Ocelot's eyes trailed Quiet from head to toe, and then stopped pointedly at her infected span. All good humor dissipated at once, Ocelot did a double take. "Considering the fact that you are not shambling around like a typical Skull should be, I will take a guess that you're still harmless, unless I was wrong about you."

Her eyes stared at his warily, and blinked to the Boss. Ocelot raised a self-satisfied smirk.

"Don't worry about the Boss; he won't be awake for at least another twelve hours. I spiked him with a special concoction of mine, he could sleep through a storm alright," he stated, rather smugly, she might add, "What you should be worrying about is yourself, Quiet. My hunches about you are correct after all; you are alive and you are here, including the fact that you are standing before me."

She raised a brow, so Ocelot dropped his smirk.

"It's not that hard to figure it out, and you actually left plenty glaring evidence to prove that you are alive and here on Mother Base. For starters, Code Talker's office, I would have believed that it was technical failure for the first time, if the door didn't fail for the next twenty times to nothing entering and exiting every day." A frown flitted past his face, and he casted Quiet a little grin, "And DD, gods know where he wandered off lately. Besides, I made it clear that treats for DD are absolutely forbidden outside training session. You didn't think I haven't notice the way DD had been extra pudgy lately, what is it that you've been feeding him?"

Quiet made a face, very much unamused. All Ocelot had for a response was a small laugh.

"Nevertheless, you are here, and you are not here to kill anyone, that's all I need to know." To say that she was taken aback was an understatement, because Ocelot turned his back to her and said: "Since you're already here, you might as well keep an eye on him. I'll just go get ready for a thrashing when he wakes up. Stay out of sight, especially Miller's." He waved at her before walking away. The lightness in his steps bothered her, and she didn't think twice before a hand shot forth to stop him by the wrist.

Ocelot had such impressive self-control over himself; she could barely feel the slight rigidness on his hand that was meant to flip her over. He kept his back to her, yet his eyes looked at her questioning face calmly, easily deciphering the narrowed thin brows. "Why do I trust you?" he voiced. She nodded and extracted her hand from him, taking a tentative step back.

"I don't, I am never a trusting person. But you," he simpered, "let just say that I understand you to a certain degree. You and I, we both have plenty things in common about this man. You tried to kill the Boss once. I did the same twenty years ago, even before Boss became the Big Boss."

"If something's off with the Boss, you know where to find me." He sauntered off the door without ever looking back. "Though you'll expect to see me again."

The door closed again and she could only stare from where Ocelot had left, still in disbelief of what had enfolded, if it had even enfolded in the first place.

Did Ocelot just give his approval of her stay? At one moment she was starting to doubt the enormity of the moment but, then Snake shifted in his sleep, forcing her to redirect her attention to him.

He was almost like a dead man in bed, his lips hung slightly open, and his limbs slack against the mattress. There wasn't a single inkling to him waking up any soon. So, she slid her fingers against his bare arm gently like he was made out of porcelain, her tips barely brushing against the warm skin and Quiet gauged his reactions: he snorted a bit, and that was it. Whatever Ocelot spiked him with, she could tell that it was nothing short of potent in terms of putting someone to sleep.

She wouldn't mind staying with him or to look after him, that's what she came here to do in the first place. But DD was not around, and from what Ocelot implied, she was to stay for the rest of the night, something too risky in which she wouldn't compromise until today. Quiet straightened and considered her circumstances. Was Ocelot's concoction worth to risk her discovery? Big Boss was after all, Big Boss; she knew that his tolerance towards drugs was borderline transcendent. What are the chances he would get over the sedative in his systems and wake before she did?

But in the end, high tolerance does not equal immunity, she sighed and acquiesced. Besides, it's not like opportunities like these would rain from the sky often. She'd just have to trust Ocelot in this; after all, Ocelot is Ocelot. She had his word, and she knew better than to doubt the cat's craftiness.

Outweighed by her own inclination and the long night she had, Quiet sat on the floor by the slumbering man's bed and leaned against the frame, her rifle balanced on her lap. Waving her fingers between his slack ones, she fell asleep that way.

* * *

 _A.N: No, I am not dead._ _Okay, guillty as charged: I got caught up with life since last November that I had barely the time to sit and write properly; Christmas, Lunar Year, RL, and PS4 (I got sucked in to Warframe lately, because it's F2P and its community is surprisingly nice, considering I used to survive in the brutality of LoL and WoW) all needed my undivided attention, and I couldn't really say no. When I did, I couldn't manage more than a few hundred words before scraping them up and re-write the whole darn thing just because._

 _Til then, I really wanted to thank everyone who kept tuning in and for all the reviews/fav/follows that kept rolling in while I am stuck in my hiatus. No promises on speedy update, but I'll be sure to spend more time to write as much as I could._

 _And also, be sure to thank my beta, Infinity, otherwise you might barf with my unedited chapter from too much headache I produce._


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